MY FIRST KILL. 77 



was my first, Archie was all for smearing my face over 

 with blood for luck ; but I compromised, and escaped 

 with a large cross on the back of each hand. 



Stepping back to the place I fired from, I made it 

 just one hundred and seventy-five paces ; and then while 

 Archie was performing the gralloch, I started off across 

 the corrie to where we had left our luncheon; and 

 as it was now near four o'clock, right glad I was to 

 get it. When we had refreshed, and talked it over, 

 and had a pipe, it was time to start home; so propping 

 the stag open with a large long stone to allow him to 

 cool quickly, and fastening a bunch of paper to his 

 horns to flutter in the breeze and scare away the ravens, 

 with a parting look at our quarry we started on the 

 return journey. Home was reached a little before nine 

 o'clock, as our progress in the dark was very slow. I 

 now began to see why no one else had volunteered for 

 the day's sport. To get up at five o'clock, ride twenty- 

 four miles, and stalk all day on ground lying mostly at 

 an angle of forty-five degrees, would be quite enough 

 for most of us three days a-week. A hot tub, a good 

 dinner, and I was soon feeling fresh again. My host 

 came and smoked a cigar with me while I ate and told 

 him of my adventures, and how delighted I had been 

 with my day. 



We were chatting merrily away when the door 

 opened, and almost unnoticed I found the butler stand- 

 ing by my side with a small silver waiter. 



" Telegram for you, sir ; the cart was down for sup- 

 plies to-day, and brought this from the station, sir." 

 The Leger, and the fact that it was run that day, had 



