REMINISCENCES OF A ROSS-SHIRE FOREST. 151 



the forest, one gets tolerably " 'cute " at seeing or 

 hearing signals. Down I dropped in the heather, 

 with my head twisted over my shoulder in the atti- 

 tude of a well-broken pointer, when he suddenly 

 finds himself on the very top of birds where he least 

 expects them. Both men had dropped also close 

 together, and were now directing my attention to a 

 deer stag or hind, I couldn't make out which with 

 the naked eye far away down below us, feeding by 

 the burn. Carefully retreating two or three hundred 

 yards, we turned our glasses down the hill. Three 

 stags and ten hinds met our view. Still retreating 

 some six or eight hundred yards to get the wind 

 right, at last we turned and made for the prey. 

 Before we had progressed very far " Ye had better 

 be getting her ready," I heard Murdoch whisper to 

 John. 



" Keep the rifle in the cover," I said ; " we're not 

 within three hundred yards of the deer." 



A short way farther on there was another whisper- 

 ing and another fumbling with the cover. Again I 

 put the veto on their operations. At length, after 

 some careful crawling, we got within easy shot. All 

 three stags were together not eighty yards off, down 

 rather a steep hill-face. Crawling forward with Mur- 

 doch I took a look at them. Shivering with excite- 

 ment, he handed me the rifle. 



" Shoot, if you please, sir," he whispered. 



"If I put the rifle over that rock, the stag the 



