THE STAG. 83 



gaze across to the inaccessible peaks opposite. I once 

 climbed there after him, and could not sufficiently ad- 

 mire the glorious view over rock and winding valley 

 and mountain stream that lay below me. There is 

 nothing an old stag loves more than quiet, and here 

 there was nought to disturb him. The spot was unap- 

 j^roachable save by one narrow path. Behind was a 

 wall of rock some hundred feet high, reaching to the 

 r-est of the mountain, and all around was a deep abyss 

 that ensured him from an assault. Here he used to 

 stray about, and at evening, as the sun was sinking 

 behind his rocky fastness, would stand and look down 

 upon the vale. 



Nor, though scared away, will a stag easily give up 

 a path he has once chosen in going to or from the 

 pasture. He keep^ to it as though it w^ere the sole way 

 through the forest. Day after day he will appear at the 

 same place and nearly at the same hour, and this exact- 

 ness has enabled many a foe to lie in wait for him at 

 his coming. 



As a man who has lived long in the world becomes 

 mistrustful, so an old stag is wariness itself. Unlike 

 some young greenhorn, who is off at once on the first 

 sound of an unusual noise or at sight of an intruder, he 

 will first watch and listen. He is lazy too, and does not 

 like being disturbed. Should he hear steps and voices 

 in the wood, he will perhaps lie close, most watchful 



G 2 



