CHAPTER II 

 FARLEY, 1915 



SHTJRE it was a great year, though I missed my 

 first two stags, hurried shots in the wood which 

 brought forth the remark from Davie : ' ' You're 

 no shooting so well this year." However, though 

 there were plenty of misses, there were some good 

 shots, and I got four very good heads. 



We got three or four medium stags with poor 

 heads in and around Farley Wood the end of 

 August one on the 23rd with my nephew, the 

 renowned A. M. Walters (familiarly known as 

 A. M., who with his brother P. M. were the terrors 

 of the professionals at " Soccer " in the eighties 

 and early nineties, and earned the proud sobriquet 

 of " Those bloody Walters !" in the North), both 

 of us firing and both of us claiming the stag; and 

 another on the 27th, a lucky snap standing shot 

 at a stag we suddenly came on warming himself 

 at a woodman's fire. But the first stalk in the 

 open was on the 4th of September, a wet day, but 

 no mist. Susan was with me as usual, and we 

 had found nothing in the morning, and lunched 

 near the duck loch, Loch Balloch, and were wet 



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