48 



LIFE AT ROSEHALL. 



in every direction ; then, as if determined to make one more effort 

 for his life, set off in a broken trot, 



He had been winding about amongst the rocks all the time 

 I had been watching him, seldom more than two hundred yards 

 from me, and sometimes so near that I was half tempted to try 

 a shot at him ; but I was always in hopes of getting within surer 

 range, and did not fire. He now trotted off about three hundred 

 yards, where there was a small black pool of water. Into this 

 lie went ; it did not at first reach higher than his knees. Just 

 then Donald appeared in view, coming slowly and cautiously over 

 the hill, and leading a pointer -in a string. I saw that the dog 

 was tracking the deer. It was a large powerful dog, of great size 

 and strength one of the finest, if not quite the finest built dog of 



the kind that I had ever possessed or seen. Having been at the 

 death of one or two deer, he had taken a mighty fancy to the 

 scent of a bleeding stag, and tracked true and keenly. I sat 

 quiet to watch him and the old Highlander, as they came slowly 

 but surely on the track, with both their noses to the ground ; 

 Donald hunting low, in order to be sure that the dog was still 

 right, which he could tell pretty well by the occasional spots of 

 blood on the gray stones, though the ground was too hard most 

 of the way to show the mark of the foot. Now and then they 

 seemed quite thrown out for a minute or so ; this I saw was 

 generally occasioned by Donald's want of judgment. The dog, 

 though he strained on the string, kept the track wonderfully well 

 in every turn. The poor object of their chase, when he first saw 



