170 WILD SPORTS OF THE HIGHLANDS. [CHAP. xxi. 



I was resting here, having met my gillie, and was consoling 

 myself for my want of success by smoking a cigar, when, at the 

 same moment, a kind of shadow came across me, and the pointers 

 who were coupled at rny feet pricked up their ears and growled, 

 with their eyes fixed on some object behind me. My keeper, 

 who had been out with me all day, was stretched on his back, 

 in a half slumber, and the gillie was kneeling down taking a long 

 draught at the cool well, with the enjoyment of one who had had 

 a long toiling walk on a hot August day. Turning my head lazily 

 to see what had roused the dogs, and had cast its shadow across me, 

 instead of a shepherd, as I expected could 1 believe my eyes ! 

 there stood a magnificent stag, with the fine shaped horns 

 peculiar to those of the Sutherland forests. He was standing 

 on the bank immediately behind me, and not above fifty yards 

 off, looking with astonishment at the group before him, who 

 had taken possession of the very spot where he had intended to 

 slake his thirst. The deer seemed too much astonished to move, 

 and for a moment I was in the same dilemma. The rifle was on 

 the ground just behind the slumbering Donald. I was afraid 

 the deer would be off out of sight, if I got up to take it, or if 

 I called loud enough to awake Donald. So I was driven to 

 the necessity of giving him a pretty severe kick, which had the 

 effect of making him turn on his side, and open his eyes with 

 a grunt. " The rifle, Donald, the rifle," I whispered, holding 

 out my hand. Scarcely knowing what he was at, he instinc- 

 tively stretched out his hand to feel for it, and held it out to 

 me. All this takes some time to describe, but did not occupy 

 a quarter of a minute. At the same instant that I got the rifle, 

 the gillie lifted up his head from the water, and half turning, 

 saw the stag, and also saw that I was about to shoot at him. 

 With a presence of mind worthy of being better seconded, he 

 did not raise himself from his knees, but remained motionless 

 with his eyes fixed on the deer. As I said before, I had never 

 killed a deer, and my hand shook, and my heart beat. I fired 

 however with, as I thought, a good aim at his shoulder. The 

 deer at the instant turned round. After firing my shot, we all 

 (including Donald, who by this time comprehended what was 

 going on) ran to the top of the bank to see what had happened, 

 as the deer disappeared the instant I fired. I had, I believe, 



