A LAST LOOK 193 



high unaltered blue." We had had a long round, 

 and, roe or no roe, I had thoroughly enjoyed it. Of 

 all kinds of hunting, that which most appeals to 

 me is in partially wooded, mountainous country. 

 The scenery is so varied ; one is indulged in a 

 constant succession of surprises, for behind each 

 knoll, each belt of woodland, lie unknown and 

 wonderful possibilities. A fresh hill may tantalise 

 you into advancing beyond the imaginary boundary 

 you had marked down for yourself (for there is 

 nothing so alluring as a hill), or a wide vista of hill 

 and dale, strath and glen may delight you even 

 beyond your expectations. So it had been that 

 day. I had outstripped my companion, I had 

 forgotten about the roe, and in spirit was back on 

 such another day, three years before in Inverness- 

 shire. A whistle from Lao- Wei made me turn. 

 There he was, my buck, though he was never mine 

 save in the series of beautiful pictures which his 

 grace endowed, framed in firs, silhouetted against 

 the sky. For a moment I meditated a hasty 

 scramble through the wood below in a wild 

 endeavour to obtain a shot, but an instant's reflec- 

 tion convinced me of the madness of such a 

 manoeuvre, and I stood to watch him. He had, 

 1 fear, sacrificed his affections to his safety, for the 

 doe fed timidly with upraised head in the open 

 below him. It was almost dark as I reached the 

 foot of the hill, but far above me I could see his 

 pale patch glimmering on the hill-side. 



I never saw him again, though he often fills my 

 thoughts, as in that last moment when he stood 

 clear and sharp against the sky and his splendid 

 horns filled me with a wild regret. Now, far 



