A FALL HUNTING TRIP. 97 



" There is another stag on the hill over there. I think he 

 is a good one." 



It must be owned that at this time, although knowing 

 myself to be in great luck to have come upon the deer in 

 such numbers, I was, as has been said, rather dissatisfied 

 with the fact that, amongst all the stags I had seen, not one 

 carried a head unquestionably above the average. 



The caribou to which Jack had just drawn my attention 

 was close upon three-quarters of a mile away on the slope 

 of an opposing barren. The sun had gone in for a moment, 

 so that it was not easy to make him out with certainty. But 

 after a little the cloud blew away, and in the brightening 

 light I looked again, and saw a sight that filled me with 

 hope, for the sun was shining and glinting upon ~the big 

 clubbed top of his left antler. Here, undoubtedly, at last 

 was a really splendid stag. For some time we sat and 

 watched him feeding leisurely along the rough shoulder of 

 the ridge, and when at length he disappeared into the dip 

 on the farther side we set off at once. 



The direction of the wind necessitated a long walk 

 which led us across a particularly wet and shaky bit of bog, 

 and then up over the first of a series of low rolling barrens. 

 Here we attempted to spy the stag again, but for a time we 

 could not locate him. At length, however, we caught sight 

 of him coming over a slope further on. He was now facing 

 us, standing up magnificently against the sky-line. As 

 soon as he passed over the brow of the barren into the 

 hollow we scrambled as quickly as we were able to the base 

 of the one we were on, and began to run, for there appeared 

 to be every chance that he would feed into an unstalkable 

 position. 



We crawled up and hid behind some stones in a line 

 parallel to that in which the stag was feeding. All this 

 time he was moving slowly on, passing behind a small group 

 of five or six bare jumpers, and we could see him nuzzling 



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