CHAPTER VII. 

 ''HE'S A DEAD 'UN." 



I DINED in solitary state that night, the butler serving me with all 

 the formal care which he might have bestowed upon a host of dis- 

 tinguished guests, and I went early to bed where I slept with ex- 

 ceeding great satisfaction and restful comfort, until eight o'clock of 

 a Sunday morning. 



When I rung my bell and when Albert came, I designated in a few 

 crisp sentences my desire for some oatmeal porridge and cream, bacon 

 and eggs, buttered toast, marmalade, and coffee, on a tray in my 

 bed. And I got them, and I ate them, and I went straightway to 

 sleep again, and I slept until full twelve o' the clock, noon. Then I 

 rose full of the joy of life, and, bathed and shaved and clean-clad 

 in fresh clothes, had my mid-day meal and then sat in sweet content 

 befoie the leaping fire on the rest room hearth, and smoked and 

 dreamed. And just before sunset I walked down the road, thinking I 

 might meet the Chief motoring in. 



It was a beautiful way I traveled down the good road by the side 

 of the Loch. I was so comfortable in mind and body I could almost 

 feel myself purr like a cat. I thought of the new game which I 

 was playing, one I had never tried. Shooting deer in the Rocky 

 Mountains and elsewhere I had pursued them was quite a different 

 sport I had shot the lesser and the greater game in many spots, but 

 this stalking of the Scottish stag, Monarch of the Highlands, was 

 as much a journey into undiscovered country as was Columbus' first 

 voyage into the mysterious West. 



Other men care for new trails, to sail upon uncharted seas; to ex- 

 plore the unknown, and so did I. So I was happy and content. I 

 said to myself if be my good fortune to get a stag, well and good. 

 If not, I shall not bemoan my fate or growl at my luck. 



