32 CHAPTER IF. 



the gillie was called up while the stalker gave him some more of 

 those confidential instructions. This time I caught the word "ponies" 

 and a movement of the hand in the direction where the ponies were 

 supposed to be. 



The gillie left us, while we, climbing two-thirds of the way to the 

 summit came into that same old bitter course, crossed and left it, and 

 made our way around the mountain which brought us out at a 

 vantage point looking down on a large valley (Scotch "corrie") 

 spread below us. There were deer in it, but none in suitable places 

 for a stalk. Then on a long slant we started back toward the path. 

 When we reached its smooth surface again, darkness had fallen. 

 Donald questioned: "Would the General wait here while I go back 

 and get the ponies?" I said no. We would walk in. And we did. 



It was four miles to the Lodge and the path which had seemed smooth 

 grew strangely rough with loose rocks that rolled under the feet, and 

 the four places where we had to cross burns by precarious stepping 

 stones loomed ominously before me. But we walked in. 



Oh, the scent of the peat smoke, when after we topped the last rise, 

 the Lodge yard fence appeared dimly before us ! Sweet savor to the 

 nostrils was that peat smoke. I knew it meant a hot bath and dry 

 clothes and good food and rest and sleep; and then the twinkling 

 lights. Just a little way more and we were in. 



I did it and I could have gone further if I had had to, but I am 

 very glad I did not have to. This was my first day of Scotch deer 

 stalking and you will say it was a hard one. So did I, but it was 

 worth all the labor it cost, even though I had not fired a shot; even 

 though I had toiled and struggled until I thought I should fall from 

 sheer weariness. Men's best rewards are sometimes indirect ones. 

 Conquering obstacles, overcoming the weaknesses of the flesh and 

 fighting old Mother Nature in her strongholds are activities to give 

 any man satisfaction who has a drop of fighting blood in his body. 



I knew I had not acquitted myself ill in the eyes of my guide, and 

 I chuckled to myself when I saw the light of understanding in my 

 host's eyes as I told him it had been a good day and that deer stalking 

 was a great game, and I meant it. I had commenced to glimpse the 

 possibilities of what now appears to me to be one of the grandest 

 sports a man can indulge in. 



