IN SCOTCH DEER-FORESTS 81 



obedience to his sign, and saw the tips of the stag's 

 horns not 100 yards away among the rocks. 



' How near-r would you like to tak' the shot, sir ?' 

 he whispered. 'We can cra-al to within 10 yards, 

 I believe, if you wad like it.' 



Then emotions of resentment, not only against 

 Fate in general, but Donald in particular, began to 

 stir my blood. I had become, it would seem, an 

 object of respectful pity and compassion. In anger 

 and desperation I seized the rifle, motioned Donald 

 to lie still, while I crawled on alone to a rock some 

 30 yards ahead. Cautiously peering round its edge, 

 there lay the stag a noble beast not 60 yards away, 

 all unconscious of our presence. I gently thrust the 

 rifle round the rock, with fell purpose in my heart ; 

 took a quiet and steady aim behind the stag's shoulder 

 as he lay was it still my fancy, or, perhaps, the 

 position behind the rock, that somehow gave the 

 weapon an unaccustomed feel when the stock was 

 cuddled to my cheek ? and quietly pressed the 

 trigger. The stag sprang to its feet at the report 

 of the rifle, staggered slightly as if wounded, and the 

 next moment was over the brow and out of sight. 



Donald joined me. ' I could have taken you 

 nearer, sir,' said he. ' But the stag wass hit, what- 

 effer,' he continued. 



' It was near enough,' I replied. ' If I cannot kill 

 a stag at 60 yards, I cannot kill one at all.' 



We followed that stag for a mile or more. At 

 first there were a few drops of blood on the track. 

 Then the widespread, deep hoof-marks showed him 

 to be going strong and well straight over the moor 

 for some distant point. We never saw him again. 



I sat down by a burn and took a despairing drink. 



6 



