120 HUNTING CAMPS. 



along some rocks directly above him, and finally got 

 within sixty yards, where, from behind a big boulder, I was 

 able to count his points through the glass with some accu- 

 racy. He carried four points on each top, six and four on 

 the bays, two at the back of the beam, and on one brow I 

 imagined that I could make out ten and on the other four 

 points. Besides these there was one very clearly defined 

 extra point above the right brow. 



Now it is undoubtedly a very fine head on which one 

 can count thirty-five points at sixty yards, but, as I have 

 said, I was eager to secure a pair of even brows, and no 

 doubt my good fortune during the previous year had given 

 me an exaggerated idea of the trophies I might expect to 

 obtain. So, in spite of the urging of Jack Wells, who had 

 joined me, I put off shooting. Meantime the sun went 

 down behind us and the moon rose. It was a perfectly 

 still night, not a ripple stirred the silver water of the pond 

 on which the little wooded islands showed like blots. We 

 must have remained for a very long time behind our boulder 

 watching that grand stag. Presently Jack besought me 

 with many signs to shoot, and was much upset by my re- 

 fusal, and ultimately we crept quietly away, and, as we 

 rose to our feet in the moonlight, on the barren above I 

 could hear the stag walking through the water. "Why 

 didn't you give a gun to he ? " Jack asked in accents of 

 deep reproach. I excused myself on the score that he was 

 not as good a stag as those we had shot during my former 

 season in Newfoundland. Jack pointed over the barren. 

 " You remember that thirty-five pointer you let go up 

 there last year ? There was a better head on he than on 

 two you shot after/' I had to admit that was so. " Like 

 as not, that stag you let go is the best we'll see this trip ! " 



With which cheerful prophecy we went on our way to 

 camp, where I found Wynyard, who had seen little save 

 the men from Gambo. 



