MY FIRST STALK. 27 



You understand that when we commenced to walk we left the path 

 and assailed the slope where there was no made way. Fine, noble, 

 rocky peaks and ridges rose before us. Ridge on ridge and terrace 

 on terrace quite as massive as any high mountain ranges I have ever 

 seen. 



At intervals they seemed very long intervals Donald would stop 

 and again spy. At such times, while I had the energy, I reached 

 around and took my own faithful Warner and Swasey binoculars from 

 their case at my hip and looked in the direction toward which I saw 

 his 'scope pointed. 



On the low ground as we got higher I picked up a number of 

 deer at a distance. Each time after a pause, so short that it seemed 

 to me we had scarcely stopped before we started on again, the 

 upward movement continued. At one of these stops I looked back 

 at the three ponies huddled together with the attendant gillie at their 

 heads. Not again during all the hard, gruelling first day of stalking 

 should I see those faithful burden bearers, though of this I was 

 unaware at the moment, which was quite as well. 



Over the sharp and loosely flung rocks of every size, across grassy 

 slopes wet and slippery, through peat hags dug deep in the yielding 

 turf, upward and yet upward we toiled. At any rate, I toiled. My 

 leader's slender gray-green clad legs seemed as insensate and in- 

 vincible to fatigue as steel springs. My heavy shoes, too new for 

 comfort, were stiff and punished me cruelly. It was grievous labor. 



I lost my first wind; reached and with falterings grabbed my second; 

 lost that in turn and groped for my third. It was not there, and 

 ever and ever the top seemed further away. I dared not look at it, 

 because the distance seemed to increase instead of lessen at each 

 glance. All I could do was fix my burning gaze on Donald's nether 

 extremities and follow on. 



