SEPTEMBER 203 



be beasts on the faich below. 1 Passive clay and the 

 inexorable potter again! There is no autocrat more 

 compelling than a stalker on his beat. Up we went 

 again ; steeper and more stony grew the way, till at 

 last we lay on the summit of this blessed mount, and 

 Mackintosh was scanning the wide prospect with his 



It was a likely harbour for deer. A thousand feet 

 below us lay a wide strath between our hill and Ben 

 Alder; a stream wound, like a skein of silvery silk, 

 through dark heather broken by streaks and patches 

 of emerald pasture. I could detect no sign of life 

 except an eagle circling over the flank of Ben Alder. 



Mackintosh spied long in silence, and I nourished the 

 hope that the strath was empty, and that I might be 

 spared the ordeal of another stalk. A craven thought 

 to own to in such a scene and under a soft September 

 sky, but there it was. Howbeit, after a prolonged survey 

 Mackintosh lowered his glass saying, ' There is a good 

 beast yonder in a pretty good place.' He told me to 

 turn my glass upon some dark peat hags, and there, sure 

 enough, was a stag lodged, nearly as dark as the peat, 

 for he had been rolling in the mire after the luxurious 

 manner of his kind in fine weather. 



So here I was in for another stalk noblesse oblige 

 and all ignoble as I felt, there was noblesse enough in 

 that distant animal, which might be another royal, to 

 compel me to the task. Approach to him lay down 

 the Chimney a deep gutter or cleft, vertical in places, 

 which led right down the face of the hill to the plain 

 below. I must shorten this narrative, already too long, 



