74 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



occasionally to see him going back his favourite 

 manoeuvre and throw their sticks at him. What 

 became of him when he broke back we never could 

 discover. Study the wind and the ground as one 

 would, and post the rifles never so cannily, our efforts 

 to get a shot at him were all in vain. 



The end came at last, but not the end we had antici- 

 pated and desired. We were driving the wood late in 

 September, and I bethought me to go in line with the 

 drivers. Three rifles were posted at far corners of the 

 wood, and presently a rifle-shot rang out, much to my 

 delight. ' Surely we have him this time,' thought I. 

 But, to our disgust, it proved to be a roebuck only. 

 No deer had been seen by either rifles or men, though 

 Sandy had come across fresh sign of what looked like 

 the big stag. The party gathered at the far end of 

 the wood, and handed their rifles to the men to carry, 

 preparatory to strolling home along the moor. I 

 walked back as I had come, through the thick cover, 

 more, perhaps, by chance than design, intending to 

 meet the party near the little hill where I had first 

 spied the stag that Sunday so long ago ; and as I 

 walked I happened, in the leafy recesses of the wood, 

 to come on the fresh track of a heavy deer, apparently 

 making his way in the direction of the hill in question. 

 I followed on, and came out close under the little hill, 

 the sides of which, for perhaps 150 yards, were densely 

 clothed with thick birch-wood. 



With the recollection of Hitteren wood- crawling in 

 my mind, I proceeded, as much from curiosity as any- 

 thing else, to creep quietly along this thick cover to- 

 wards the rest of the party, who, as it happened, had 

 lain down on their homeward way for a smoke and 

 chat in the heather not 100 yards from the spur of the 



