34 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



of the show. We went home to breakfast determined 

 to prosecute our search a little further in the same 

 direction in the afternoon. 



Late that same evening we Eric and I were 

 creeping quietly down the edge of the glen close to 

 our march, on the look-out for something worth the 

 shot. Not a sight or sign of deer had we seen for 

 two long hours, and I had begun to think the 

 ground was blank, and had carelessly dropped a few 

 paces to the rear, when Eric, in front, suddenly 

 crouched and turned to stone. As I followed his 

 example, there, on a wooded ridge above us, came 

 daintily stepping a hind through the scattered cover 

 of birch and iir. She had not seen us, and the 

 wind was right. Then came another hind and calf, 

 and yet another. Clearly it was some four-footed, 

 ruffed and tined pasha's harem. After what seemed 

 to us an endless pause, as we crouched in eager 

 but undignified fashion in heathery bog, yet another 

 movement of dark-red body became apparent among 

 the trees, and then, a few paces behind the hinds, 

 stepped forth into view a great stag, dark with 

 peat-bog from his last soiling-pool, splendidly ruffed, 

 and carrying a wide and heavy head. ' Skut, skut !' 

 hissed Eric, in most unnecessary haste, for the stag 

 was not 80 yards away, and my main difficulty was 

 to control a too hasty desire to loose off my rifle. It 

 was one of those sitting chances occasionally missed 

 by the tyro, simply because it looks so easy that 

 proper aim is not taken. But I had already served 

 a few years' apprenticeship in Hitteren woods, and 

 took pains to shift my attitude and take a steady 

 sight, quickly no doubt, but not too quick, before the 

 finger crooked on trigger. Following the roar of my 



