PLEASANT PLACES 17 



them, and that there was one " worth a shot." We 

 walked rapidly to the boat-house, where a light skiff 

 hung suspended by pulleys, so that a child's hand 

 could move it up and down, crossed the lake, and our 

 stalk began at once. There was a certain amount of 

 crawling, but the approach was neither long nor diffi- 

 cult, and soon, after peering over a heather-clad brae, 

 McHardy took the rifle from its cover, slipped back the 

 safety bolt, and pointed below him, whispering as he 

 handed me the rifle, " The second to the right is your 

 beast." The stag how enormous he looked to my un- 



O / 



practised eyes ! was lying down broadside about 120 

 yards off. McHardy advised me to wait till he rose, 

 but when I urged that I was sure I could not miss him, 

 he left me to take my own wilful way. I took a low 

 sight behind the shoulder, pulled the trigger of the 

 rifle, a 450 express with black powder (it was before 

 these happy days of cordite and 303), and with a bound 

 my stag disappeared behind the mound. 



There was a moment of agony when I believed 

 that I had missed and disgraced myself for ever, but 

 McHardy reassured me, shouting, as he started in 

 pursuit, " He is hit hard, and cannot go far." In a 

 very few minutes he had administered the coup de 

 grace, and I was standing breathless by my first stag, 

 a nice fifteen-stone beast carrying a pretty head of 

 nine points. I got a second in the afternoon, but will 

 not go into details. It was more of a drive than a 

 stalk, as the deer were in an unapproachable position, 

 and had to be moved by showing them a glimpse of 

 something, while I ran to waylay them in the pass 

 they would be pretty sure to take. Six stags passed 

 me at a hand gallop within a hundred yards ; I was 



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