OPEN-GROUND HUNTING 293 



man is apt to scare a deer when it is lying down, especially 

 an old stag. We waited half-an-hour, but the stag refused 

 to move, then at last he lifted his horns and showed the 

 whole of his bays, tops and brows, after a perfect chorus 

 of whistles and grunts on our part. What a head! It must 

 be the best in Newfoundland, such middle palms as neither 

 I nor the Indians had ever seen before. I blessed the 

 Sylvester spook and sat down on Steve's knee — a second 

 error — and prepared to take the shot, for I could not see 

 over the " tufts " without some such support. 



If nothing will move a stolid deer, the snapping of a 

 stick is nearly always effectual. John pulled over a rotten 

 branch, and the stag at once sprang to his feet and bolted 

 at full speed. I fired and missed handsomely, but stood up 

 and prepared for a second shot, as I felt sure he would 

 stand before his final departure. It was as I thought. The 

 noble fellow sprang round to take a last look, at about 120 

 yards, and had scarcely stopped when, concentrating all my 

 forces to be steady, I pressed the trigger and planted a bullet 

 through the lungs. There was a satisfactory " plunk," the 

 forty-five pointer reeled, threw up his head, and then fell 

 to the ground quite dead. 



How we rushed up to survey our prize, what mutual 

 congratulations passed, what encomiums were lavished on 

 the Spirit of the Mountain, and what a talk we had on big 

 heads, I leave the reader to imagine. Neither the Indians 

 nor myself had seen such wonderful middle palms — twenty- 

 two large points on the two. 



The sun was shining brilliantly, so I managed to take 

 some excellent photographs, and the day being still young, 

 we sat and skinned the head and enjoyed an excellent 

 dinner, after which the Indians skinned and cleaned the 



