MY FIRST STALK. 23 



I made many a noble resolve while I was in Scotland to learn the 

 names of at least a few of the most familiar spots I visited. The 

 Gaelic names, I mean. But I was too busy doing other things. Be- 

 sides that I only have one brain, and I early discovered that overtax- 

 ing this delicate member is an evidence of lack of quality in that 

 same brain structure. 



Whenever I spoke of a place with a Gaelic name I just hit the 

 high places. I called it "Umph-umph ump-glumph" or something like 

 that. 



You should have heard me trying to describe one of my stalks the 

 night after I had made it. I believe the Chief would have broken a 

 blood vessel if I had not grown so angry at his stupid lack of com- 

 prehension. As it was, he laughed until the rafters rang again. 



Well, anyhow, when he said he was going to "What-you-may-call-it" 

 I thought I might as well mosey out and see if I could find Donald. 

 As soon as I stepped from the threshhold, into the sunshine, a gray- 

 eyed, clean-cut young Scotchman moved toward me, and touching 

 his cap, said: "The General wull be going wi' me." 



"Is your name Donald?" 



"Yes, sir." 



"Well, then," I answered, "Go ahead; I'm ready. But where's my 

 rifle and who has my ammunition?" 



"I have them, sir," said he. We walked on down from the lodge 

 by the stables where some ponies were standing. They call them 

 ponies, but some of them were pretty fair sized horses. Anyway, 

 they were Scotch ponies. They were bridled and had saddles upon 

 their backs, and one was pointed out to me afterwards discovered 

 to be the Chief's own as the one I should mount. I climbed up into 

 the comfortable old McClellan saddle which graced this barrel-bodied 

 and faithful beast, and following in the footsteps of Donald, who 

 moved off on foot, I made my start upon my first stalk in the High- 

 lands. 



Donald swung along at a good four miles an hour. I had to put 

 my pony, which was a slow walker, into an occasional trot, to keep up 

 with him. Passing through the gate which marked the limit of the 

 lodge grounds proper I saw back of us two more ponies with a man at 

 the head of each, following after. Donald carried my rifle, a Ross 



