16 HAPPY HUNTING-GROUNDS 



Once more I seem fretting to start with a boy's im- 

 patience while my host reads his letters before issuing 

 the orders of the day. Then, when we are fairly 

 mounted and away, comes another delay. About a 

 mile from the gate the two stalkers dismount, and 

 deliberately search with their glasses the portion of 

 the hillside on their left between us and the sanctuary. 

 "Braemore" had greeted us on his return from the 

 forest the evening before, full of regrets for the loss 

 of a magnificent stag which he had hit and followed 

 to about this point, when the mists of evening veiled 

 it from sight. I am afraid that my inward prayer 

 was that it might not be discovered, as I knew that 

 if it was, it meant further delay, and I grudged every 

 moment. Alas ! the sharp eye of McHardy marked 

 a reddish-brown object near a cairn on the hillside, 

 and leading a pony behind them the two stalkers left 

 us in the road, and made their way up the hill to 

 the spot where the big stag (he turned the scale at 

 18 stone, clean) lay motionless and dead. More than 

 an hour passed before they returned, having per- 

 formed the last rites. However, we made up for lost 

 time when they returned, pressing our ponies to their 

 utmost speed, which, as they were grass -fed and 

 thick-coated, did not exceed the " speed limit." 



We parted by the forester's house opposite to 

 Loch Druim (the summit loch), and McHardy proceeded 

 to seat himself on a flat stone on the road and "spy" 

 the hillside on the right beyond the lake. In a very 

 few minutes he rose and signalled to me to follow. He 

 had found a small herd of stags, and in response to my 

 eager inquiries condescended to tell me that the wind 

 was all right, that it would be quite easy to get up to 



