48 Unexplored Spain 
into definite ‘beats,’ each of which has its own name; though 
to a casual visitor (since guns are necessarily placed differently 
day by day according to the wind) the actual boundaries may 
appear indefinite enough. 
On lowlands such as the Coto Dofiana, which is more or less 
level and open, the use of far-ranging rifles is necessarily restricted 
by considerations of safety. Obviously no shot, on any pretext 
whatever, may be fired either into the beat or until the game 
has passed clear of and well outside the line of guns. In every 
instance, as a gun is placed, the keeper in charge indicates by 
lines drawn in the sand or other unmistakable means the limits 
within which shooting is absolutely prohibited. The result, it 
follows, not only increases the prospective difficulty of the shot, 
but gives fuller scope to the instinctive intelligence of the game. 
For deer, unlike some winged game, do not, when driven, dash 
precipitately straight for illusory safety, but retire slowly and 
with extreme circumspection ; all old stags, in particular, fully 
anticipate hidden dangers to lie on their line of flight, and 
narrowly scrutinise any suspicious feature ahead before taking 
risks. The gunner will therefore be wise to occupy the few 
minutes that remain available in so arranging both himself and 
his post as to be inconspicuous; and also in an accurate survey 
of his environment with its probable chances, thereby minimising 
the danger of being taken by surprise. The cunning displayed by 
an old stag when endeavouring to evade a line of guns at times 
approaches the marvellous. Thus, on one occasion, the writer 
was warned of the near approach of game by a single “ clink ”— 
a noise which deer sometimes make, probably unintentionally, 
with the fore-hoof—yet seconds elapsed, and neither sight nor 
sound were vouchsafed. Then the slightest quiver of a bough 
beneath caught my eye. A big stag with antlers laid flat aback, 
and crouching to half his usual height, though going fairly fast, 
was slipping, silent and invisible, through thick but low brush- 
wood immediately beneath the little hillock whereon I lay. On 
examining the spot, the spoor showed that he had passed thus 
through openings barely exceeding two feet in height, though he 
stood himself forty-six inches at the withers. The feat appeared 
impossible.’ 
1 We have known the spoor of a wounded stag pass beneath strong interlacing branches 
so low that, in following, we have had to wriggle under on hands and knees. The spoor 
showed there had been no such cervine necessity. 
