14 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



ridge. Like the serpent on his belly, we approached 

 a hillock over which I could see a fine pair of horns, 

 and whence I meant to take the shot, when, to our 

 horror, there on to the open marsh to our right 

 walked out a hind in full view. We felt somewhat 

 like school-boys caught robbing an orchard. The hind 

 gazed at us for a moment as we lay on the ground for 

 her inspection, then gave a sharp bark and was off. 

 Alec thrust the rifle in my hand. c Yell get the 

 shot, sir, yet, if ye mak' haste,' and I scrambled to 

 the hillock and looked over. There was the stag, 

 150 yards away, just walking up the ridge, evidently 

 on the point of making off. I took a hurried aim and 

 fired. The stag broke into a gallop and vanished over 

 the ridge. To run to the top of the ridge above me, 

 with a sense of failure and disappointment, to sit 

 down and fire two more shots at the stern of a gallop- 

 ing stag, were my next moves in the game. There 

 was no apparent result. I thrust in two more cart- 

 ridges. As I did so the stag reached a farther ridge, 

 and, as even the oldest stags will sometimes do, feel- 

 ing now comparatively safe at a distance of about 

 300 yards, stood broadside for a moment, luckily 

 apart from the hinds, and gazed back at his foes. 

 This was my first chance at him standing still, and 

 I got a fair steady sight, elbow on knee, high up on 

 his shoulder. As the smoke was clearing the smack 

 of the bullet on living hide came back clearly to our 

 straining ears. The stag plunged forward on to his 

 knees, and Alec sprang to his feet behind me, waved 

 his cap in the air, and exclaimed, ' Now, sir, you've 

 gotten a good head P We ran over the marsh, arrived 

 breathless at the still plunging stag, whose shoulder was 

 broken high up, and finished him with a shot through 



