Shoots round a Hill Station 



fresh tracks of a gerou stag, and white hairs on 

 the trunks of trees where he had been rubbing 

 himself; then over another ridge, and I sat down 

 quicker than ever before in my life ! A huge stag, 

 as big as a horse, and with immense spreading 

 antlers, was right in front of me on the opposite 

 spur. He was standing absolutely still, as if 

 listening, and looking back over his shoulder; 

 but not my way. A deep dip with a noisy current 

 at the bottom separated us, which was probably 

 the reason why he hadn't heard me. This was 

 almost bare, of cover, so it was impossible to get 

 closer. He was, I judged, nearly two hundred 

 and fifty yards away, and slightly below me. 

 Eaising the two-hundred-yards' sight, and taking 

 in plenty of foresight, I aimed for his shoulder. 

 That species of excitement that we used to call 

 "buck fever" made me so unsteady, that I had 

 to come down the first time, but realizing that 

 at any moment my chance might be lost, I quickly 

 calmed my nerves, and bringing my rifle to bear 

 again, I pressed the trigger. The stag turned 

 and, cantering easily uphill, entered some coppice 

 before I could reload my single barrel, and was 

 lost to sight. Only a big-game sportsman, or 

 perhaps a fisherman who remembers the breaking 

 away of a real good fish, can realize my feelings 

 at that moment. The world seemed a hopeless 

 blank ; never again should I see such a stag, never 



27 



