86 MY SPORTING HOLIDAYS 



but a fair broadside shot, 210 paces away, as we 

 afterwards stepped it. The shot was fired. The 

 smoke cleared. There was the stag trotting along 

 the hill. ' It's all right, sir/ said Alec. But I gave 

 the deer a second barrel and he fell dead. This stag 

 carried the best-topped ten-point head I have ever 

 killed. He was shot just behind the shoulder, and I 

 do not know to this day which bullet of the two killed 

 him, though Alec said it was the first. 



The bag of that day was completed by the death 

 of a third stag an eight-pointer compassed late in 

 the evening, and not far from the shepherd's house, 

 in an ordinary, orthodox spy in the open, a skilful 

 approach on Alec's part, and a clean kill on mine. 



The last two days of my visit to Fasnakyle were 

 spent in driving the woods of Knockfin, in company 

 with another rifle and a most cheery companion, 

 L. H. Jones, of Larkhill, near Liverpool. Our host 

 had been compelled to go south, but we managed, 

 with the assistance of the head-keeper, who also 

 carried a rifle, to kill ten good stags in the two days, 

 and thoroughly to enjoy ourselves. 



At one stand on the first day I was fortunate 

 enough to get three good stags, one a splendid eleven- 

 pointer that in length and beam of horn compares 

 favourably with any trophy of the kind in my posses- 

 sion. In the same drive Jones killed a nineteen-stone 

 ten-pointer that proved to be the heaviest stag of the 

 season at Fasnakyle. 



On the last day I also saw, and might have killed, 

 a hummel stag, the only one of the kind I have ever 

 seen. But it happened that, being on the look-out 

 for deer with good antlers, the hummel stag passed 

 my post unnoticed until it was too late for the shot. 



