38 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



cheery British sailor could no longer refrain en route 

 from ' making a clean breast of it.' 



The kill had happened thus : On his way by open 

 boat to Havn that afternoon he heard a good stag 

 belling in the Balsness woods, and had promptly landed 

 with Brettel Strom, one of the wiliest and most 

 accomplished of Hitteren stalkers, to see what the 

 beast was like. It was practically the last day of the 

 season, and no man's sport would be interfered with. 

 Brettel could imitate a stag's bellicose roar to per- 

 fection. The stag in question was the big Balsness 

 stag, the undisputed master of that part of the 

 forest, and on hearing Brettel's counterfeit challenge 

 promptly rushed up to drive away the fancied rival 

 stag that he supposed was daring to poach in his 

 domain. The ' pirate ' was the last man in the world 

 to allow such a chance to slip. The master stag of 

 Balsness rushed upon his fate ; was promptly shot ; 

 decapitated ; the head wrapped up and taken back by 

 the marauders to their boat ; and the journey to Havn 

 resumed as if nothing had happened. This eleven- 

 pointer, thus secured, proved the best Hitteren trophy 

 of the year. 



Next to it came a very long ten-pointer, killed by 

 Staples junior on the far Aune ground a week pre- 

 viously a head that in length and beam I have never 

 known beaten, or even equalled, among Norwegian 

 red-deer heads ; and third only came my twelve- 

 pointer, that in any ordinary year would have been 

 the best. 



There were two other incidents of that year's sport 

 that remain fresh in my mind. They should have 

 added two additional fine heads to the trophies I took 

 down to Havn, but, as a matter of fact, only resulted 



