HUNGRY GROVE TO SANDY POND 203 



of being a great wit. Joe laughed if possible 

 more heartily than the others, and though 

 soaked to the skin was quite happy for the rest 

 of the day. 



Just as we were loading up the canoes John 

 pointed to the sky-line about half-a-mile away 

 and quietly said, " That good stag, I think." 

 Sure enough there was a heavy beast, the first 

 big stag I had seen, quietly feeding along the 

 crest of the ridge. The wind was right, so we 

 decided to cross the pond, land, and have a 

 closer look at him. His head looked massive, 

 but I could not make out the points. 



I certainl}^ never had an easier stalk, as the 

 ground was perfect for stalking, and this holds 

 good all over the island. We walked quietly 

 up in perfect shelter to within about 150 

 yards of where we had last seen the stag, and 

 presently saw the tops of his horns sticking 

 up from behind a low bush. Leaving Steve 

 behind, I crawled up to within about seventy 

 yards and got my telescope on to count the 

 points. The horns were in velvet, but just 

 stripping — and as the frontal tines were inter- 

 locked it was difficult to count the exact 

 number. Beckoning Steve up we spent some 

 time counting the points, for the poor beast 

 was lying sound asleep with his head nodding. 

 Steve could make out thirty points, but said 



