MY FIRST " ROYAL." 85 



a certainty that they were all on the other side of a 

 small hill some sixty feet high, and not very far in 

 front of us. Again it is a debated question of 

 crossing the intervening space ; the ground, however, 

 favoured us, and slipping into a burn, we arrived 

 at the foot of the hill, on the other side of which we 

 expected the stags to be. I now took the rifle, and 

 pulling back the stops, crept gently up, with Donald at 

 my elbow. "\Ve were within ten feet of the top, and 

 brimful of hope, when an old cock grouse flew off the 

 very summit, crowing as if his life depended on the 

 noise he made. " Quick, sir ! run up ! " whispers Donald, 

 and together we dash forward, and crouch behind a big 

 stone at the top, but only to see the whole herd head- 

 ing direct for my host's hiding-place, which was about 

 a mile away. 



It is annoying beyond everything to be beaten like this 

 just at the very last minute ; there are several good stags 

 trotting off and offering fair shots at about one hundred 

 and twenty yards, but my prize my royal is so 

 covered by others I could get no possible chance at 

 him. " Take that one ; you'll get no other," says Donald, 

 as he points out a good shootable beast, but I was so angry 

 that I would not, and sat watching them all go right 

 away with the rifle on the royal, and resolved to take 

 any chance at him, however poor. At last his head and 

 neck is clear, and crack ! crack ! both bullets are sent 

 after him, much as if shooting at a grouse, but with 

 no other effect than to put the whole herd into a violent 

 gallop. It was an almost impossible shot, and though 

 knowing it, a feeling of utter disgust took possession of 



