SPORT ON KEPSKAIG 237 



first stag. It was nearly dark when we got 

 to the place we had last seen him, but 

 fortunately he was there still feeding amongst 

 some big boulders on the shore of the lake. A 

 high wind was blowing and he was not more 

 than eighty yards away, so hidden by the rocks 

 and long grass I could not make out his frontals, 

 but tops and middles were good, and waiting, 

 what seemed an indefinite time, to get a broad- 

 side shot, at last he began feeding away with 

 his rump straight on to me. I could now 

 hardly see the telescope sight, but fortunately 

 he gave a half turn and as I fired I heard the 

 bullet go home. He galloped madly right 

 into the lake, and stood some 150 yards 

 away among some big rocks from which I 

 could hardly distinguish him. Taking the 

 best sight I could I fired again and he 

 dropped stone dead in the water. Getting 

 him ashore, we found he was a nice thirty-four 

 pointer, the best head we had yet seen, and as 

 it happened the best head we saw the whole 

 trip. He was in poor condition, having been 

 badly wounded in the body at some time. 

 Abscesses had formed round the wounds and 

 Steve pronounced his flesh uneatable. It was 

 too dark to do more than pull him out of the 

 water and gralloch him, and we had a hard 

 paddle back to camp in the dark. The rain 



