IN SCOTCH DEER-FORESTS 69 



All this to the captious critic may merely be 

 another way of suggesting that, in time, one may 

 get too old for the harder sport. But in 1879, 

 at all events, Sandy Mac Donald and I were entirely 

 in accord in thinking that the real business of the 

 shooting season was the pursuit of the deer. 



So we looked forward with eagerness to the day 

 when the stalking should commence. And in due 

 course the moment arrived, late in August, when 

 Sandy and I were deposited, at a decently early hour, 

 some ten miles or so up the Lairg road intent on our 

 first stalk. 



All the accustomed hills and corries were spied to 

 no purpose, as luck would have it, until after mid-day 

 Then a good stag was found lying in an open flat 

 taking his afternoon siesta. It was my first experi- 

 ence of a Scotch open-forest stalk, and Sandy and 

 myself had yet to acquire some portion of that mutual 

 confidence that is born of combined and successful 

 achievement. 



After a long crawl and many gymnastic exercises, 

 we at length reached a stone within 120 yards of the 

 stag. I could see his horns, and no more, over a tuft 

 of heather. ' We must wait till he rises,' was Sandy's 

 command, and for an hour or more I lay in a bog-hole 

 watching that pair of horns. I suggested whistling 

 him up, but Sandy would have none of it. Was there 

 no better way into him, and then chance a running 

 shot ? my youthful impatience urged. Sandy only 

 frow r ned. I began to think we were there for the 

 day. But fortune favoured us. We were lying on a 

 side-wind, and an inquisitive knobber, feeding into a 

 hollow down wind, suddenly caught a whiff of tainted 

 air. He trotted on to the flat 100 yards away, and 



