REMINISCENCES OF A KOSS-SHIRE FOREST. 169 



stags in one day ! What a shot ! ; ' and seating him- 

 self on the rock, he pulled his flask from his pocket 

 an old medicine-bottle, holding about an imperial 

 pint and extracting the cork, he "elevated his 

 elbow" with quickness and dexterity. The vessel 

 was empty, as lie well knew, but the hint was suffi- 

 cient, and I handed him mine. " What a shot ! " he 

 repeated. " Splendid ! If it wasn't that late we'd 

 have anither splendid ! He's very near a royal 

 stag." The brute wasn't much better than the 

 first, and had only six points ; but the day was far 

 advanced, and twice six, as most of us know, make 

 twelve. 



Meanwhile, like a couple of idiots I beg your 

 pardon, John we had taken no pains whatever to 

 keep out of sight. The stag, poor beast, began to 

 drag himself along the ground, like a wounded hare, 

 his hind legs being quite paralysed. I stretched out 

 my hand for the rifle. "Don't spoil him, sir," said 

 John. (Oh, John, John !) He then came to a per- 

 pendicular rock six or eight feet high, down which 

 he fell, and lay at the bottom with his legs in the air, 

 like a sheep. When next I turned my eyes on him 

 he was going round the corner at a very fair trot, and 

 we never saw him from that day to this ! l I am 

 sorry to conclude with such a tale of imbecility. 



On reading over what I have written, I find I have 



1 He was found afterwards quite dead fully three miles from 

 the place I shot him. 



