REMINISCENCES OF A ROSS-SHIRE FOREST. 159 



the rifle. Again I refused to fire. I am confident I 

 could have hit him even at that distance, a very long 

 200 yards I should have called it ; but that wasn't 

 the " pint," as Mr Biggar says, the " pint " was 

 this : Was I likely to kill him 1 I thought the 

 chances much against such a result. 



" He won't stop short of ' The Sanctuary' now," 

 (about five miles off,) said Duncan, looking as black 

 as thunder. 



" He'll not go a quarter of a mile," I replied ; and 

 I was right. In a very few minutes we were up to 

 them again to the two stags and six hinds ; the 

 other hind did not reappear on the scene. Scarcely 

 startled at all, they were preparing to lie down, 

 which they did while we were looking at them. I 

 was desperately eager to shoot the stag straight off, 

 make a pulpit of his carcass, and preach a sermon to 

 Duncan on the art of killing red-deer in the High- 

 lands of Scotland ; but it was not to be yet awhile. 

 It was the 29th of September, a very cold day, 

 with a bitter north wind, and now about half-past 

 eleven o'clock. The deer were quite unapproachable 

 where they were ; so imitating their example, we lay 

 down together. Twelve o'clock came, and one 

 two, three, and four and we were still in our re- 

 spective positions. It was awfully cold work, but 

 Duncan's bad temper had left him, that was one 

 comfort. "We lay close together, every now and 

 again taking a longing look at the big head just 



