SHOOTING BLA CK FALLO W-B UCKS ^41 



of regret at having smashed the rifle. ' Bother the 

 brute !' I exclaimed. ' What a double-distilled fool I 

 am. What on earth will my poor old uncle say ? His 

 most cherished rifle, and one which he would lend no 

 one but me.' While I was thus vainly tearing my hair, 

 my uncle and the rest of the party came upon the 

 scene. I was just in the act of sitting down and 

 holding the broken pieces together ; but my dear 

 old uncle was too old a sportsman to be taken in, 

 for he at once caught sight of the rifle, and seeing 

 how I was holding it, exclaimed : ' He has wounded a 

 buck, the young beggar, and broken my rifle over its 

 head instead of knifing it;' and turning to me said, 'You 

 have broken the best rifle-stock I ever saw,' and with 

 no little anguish of heart I had to admit the accusation, 

 save that it was no easy matter to knife a buck single- 

 handed. While I was speaking Mr. Beg called up 

 some men to help him stop the beast struggling. My 

 poor old uncle looked at me for a moment, then at the 

 deer, and then at the remains of his rifle, and ended 

 by bursting out laughing. ' It can't be helped,' he 

 said ; ' we must hope for better luck next time, and 

 send the rifle to John Rigby ; he will soon put it to 

 rights.' As he spoke my ear caught a curious gurgling 

 sound about thirty yards behind me, and on going off 

 with my uncle to the spot we found that I had, with 

 my first barrel, killed the finest buck ever killed in 

 Gurteen. The smoke had blinded me for a second, 

 and I thought when I fired my second barrel that it 

 was the same buck which I believed I had missed with 

 my first. When old Mr. Beg came up he said : ' He 

 has shot the old buck which I was nine years after ; 

 sure enough it's a splendid head.' The broken rifle 



