MV FIUST STALK 345 



Stags by the hundred defied me, and just as 1 had 

 raised my rifle to shoot a venerable elk - head of 

 hundreds of points, it missed fire, and the huge beast 

 was transformed into a lion, which was on the point of 

 eating me up when I was awakened by Charlie, the 

 cook. i\fter consuming a breakfast which I thought 

 was sufficient to last me through the entire day, I 

 lighted a pipe, little dreaming how such confidence 

 was likely to be upset before nightfall. 



Being fond of a ride at any time, I was delighted to 

 see some ponies outside awaiting us. On mounting 

 the one told off to me I was not a little horrified at the 

 saddle, and remarked, ' Do you call this a saddle ?' 

 'Oh,' was the reply, 'you must not be so careful ot 

 yourself ; you are not going to hunt a fox in soft 

 saddle-flaps, but you will have to walk home, no 

 matter how far you may have to go, and bring back 

 a stag on the saddle of every pony left with you.' 



What struck me most about these ponies was that 

 while they possessed plenty of bone, were well ribbed 

 up, and had good legs up to any weight, they were so 

 utterly deficient in shoulder : the very thing required, 

 I thought, to keep a deer-saddle in the right spot when 

 going downhill. If these ponies had the shoulders of 

 the Ardennes breed they would be perfect, and it would 

 be well worth while to import a good stallion or two, 

 and try crossing the breed. I never gave any ponies 

 such a trial as I did these Ardennes ponies, which are 

 beautifully shaped and pillars of strength, their shoulders 

 fine and sloping, and ribbing and quarters perfect. I 

 put them up and down the most frightfully steep 

 places and they never came to grief, and, indeed, I do 

 not think it is possible to put them down. It is won- 



