NO MAN'S LAND. 199 



out his hunting - knife, and as the two creatures 

 passed the dog closed. The stag sprang off his 

 feet and came down thud on the turf, his enemy at 

 his throat. In vain the stag struck out with those 

 sharp fore-feet, that would cut like knives on the 

 dog's body if they could reach it. The creature 

 twists himself about like a snake, first on one side, 

 then on the other, evading every stroke of the stag, 

 without letting go of his hold. The keeper steps up, 

 his keen knife is drawn across the stag's throat, and 

 the antlered park-breaker lies dead. 



I wonder where that keeper is now .■' He did not 

 remain long with the old squire, for he was a man 

 who would have his say when he knew he was right 

 — no matter who stood in front of him. I met him 

 once after the time I have been telling of; but it was 

 far away from that deer-park. He had changed 

 his vocation, and became a shepherd on a large 

 upland sheep-farm. His wonderful dog still followed 

 him closely. 



" People make a rare fuss about deer," he observed, 

 as we talked over past times. " I've had to do with 

 'em, more or less, all my life, an' I don't find 'em 

 different in their ways to sheep. Wild or in parks, 



