CUAP. xxvi.] THE MUCKLE HART OF BENMORE. 205 



perhaps a mile and a half, but in excellent ground for getting at 

 him. Our plan was soon arranged. I was to stalk him with 

 the rifle, while Donald, with my gun and Bran, was to get 

 round, out of sight, to the pass by which the deer was likely to 

 leave the valley. My task was apparently very easy. After 

 getting down behind the rock I had scarcely to stoop my head, 

 but to walk up within shot, so favourable was the ground and 

 the wind. I walked cautiously, however, and slowly, to give 

 Donald time to reach the pass. I was now within three hundred 

 yards of him, when, as I leant against a slab of stone, all hid 

 below my eyes, I saw him give a sudden start, stop feeding, and 

 look round suspiciously. What a noble beast ! what a stretch 

 of antler ! with a mane like a lion ! He stood for a minute or 

 two, snuffing every breath. I could not guess the cause of his 

 alarm ; it was not myself; the light wind blew fair down from 

 him upon me ; and I knew Donald would give him no inkling 

 of his whereabouts. He presently began to move, and came at 

 a slow trot directly towards me. My pulse beat high. Another 

 hundred yards forward and he is mine ! But it was not so to be. 

 He took the top of a steep bank which commanded my position, 

 saw me in an instant, and was off, at the speed of twenty miles 

 an hour, to a pass wide from that where Donald was hid. While 

 clattering up the hill, scattering the loose stones behind him, 

 two other stags joined him, who had evidently been put up by 

 Donald, and had given the alarm to my quarry. It was then 

 that his great size was conspicuous. I could see with my glass 

 they were full-grown stags, and with good heads, but they looked 

 like fallow-deer as they followed him up the crag. I sat down, 

 disappointed for the moment, and Donald soon joined me, much 

 crestfallen, and cursing the stag in a curious variety of Gaelic 

 oaths. Still it was something to have seen " the muckle stag," 

 and nil dffjtf rand urn was my motto. We had a long and weary 

 walk to Malcolm's shealing ; and I was glad to get to my heather 

 bed, after arranging that I should occupy the hiding-place Mal- 

 colm had prepared near the dead sheep next morning. 



Wednesday. We were up an hour before daylight; and in 

 a very dark morning I sallied out with Malcolm to take my sta- 

 tion for a shot at the eagles. Many a stumble and slip I made 

 during our walk, but at last I was left alone fairly ensconced in 



