MY FIRST STAG AND SOME OTHERS 19 



resisted, and the next moment an express bullet laid 

 him out. As I ran forward to pick him up, I became 

 aware of a fine stag, disturbed by the shot, running 

 out of the next glade. He crossed a steep wooded 

 valley to my right, through cover too thick to get a 

 sight, and stood for a moment on the far side, 

 150 yards away, among the trees, but with head and 

 shoulder then plainly visible. It was a fair chance, 

 but a quick one. I had reloaded as he crossed the 

 valley, and was ready for him. My second bullet 

 struck him fair between neck and shoulder, and he 

 also fell dead within a few yards. 



Scene the third and last : Eric was gralloching the 

 stag a fine twenty -stone nine-pointer, with heavy, 

 rough horns and I was lighting the pipe of satisfac- 

 tion, when overhead came sailing a great white- tailed 

 eagle, not 100 yards away. A third and last lucky 

 shot broke his pinion-bone, and, after gyrating wildly 

 in the air, the heavy bird fell head foremost on some 

 rocks among the trees, and we picked him up dead. 



On the principle, I suppose, that it never rains but 

 it pours, our chances of sport were not yet exhausted 

 for the day. We were walking home, for once abso- 

 lutely satisfied with the afternoon's bag. Eric, some- 

 what bewildered by the rapid sequence of events, was 

 walking ahead of me, carrying the eagle and the 

 'caillie slung over his shoulder, smiling and muttering 

 to himself, when he suddenly stopped on rounding a 

 hillock, and pointed with his finger. There, not 

 30 yards distant, stood another fine stag in an opening 

 of the forest, now darkening with the shades of ap- 

 proaching night. He was broadside on, a ' sitting ' 

 chance, no doubt as surprised as we were. I threw 

 the rifle to my shoulder, and saw the end of the 



22 



