THE ISLAND OF HITTEREN 55 



Hitteren fjeld, clothed around with dense woods, in 

 which it is almost certain that one or two fine stags, 

 at least, are taking their mid-day siesta. A quarter 

 of a mile or so to the right and left are posted two 

 brother riflemen, but out of sound and sight, and 

 for the time he is absolutely alone. Across his knees, 

 ready for instant use, lies his trusty double express, 

 on the prompt and skilful handling of which so much 

 depends. Let us here remark that it takes long- 

 experience of this variety of the sport to insure 

 successful results. Insure, did I say ? It is too 

 dogmatic a word. The results of a deer-driving shot 

 can never be insured. It is an instinctive action, 

 with little time for thought. The moment at which 

 to take the shot must be promptly seized. A few 

 seconds' hesitation, a hasty or ill-timed movement, 

 and the opportunity may be lost, and nothing but the 

 track of a ' stor hjort ' left to mark the event. 



To return to our waiting Nimrod. Beyond the 

 burn in front of him is a belt of wood, terminating in 

 an open glade. Any stag crossing that glade will 

 offer a fair chance of a shot at from 50 to 150 yards. 

 On the other hand, if the deer take the edge of the 

 lake on the right, they will be seen in the distance 

 approaching ; but the shot when they come will be a 

 quick one, and if allowed to pass the burn, they will 

 at once be out of sight behind a knoll, and must be 

 intercepted. There is hardly a breath of wind, and it 

 is most uncertain how they may come. There is yet 

 a quarter of an hour for a pipe of expectation. 



The drivers are three miles away, and by the watch 

 have only just started. Presently on the far skyline 

 appears the tall form apparent through the glass 

 of Nils, the head-driver. The men are below and 



