56 WILD SPORTS OF THE HIGHLANDS. (cap. Vv. 
pretty well the direction the alarm comes from by taking notice 
of the quarter in which the wind is, and from which part of the 
mountain the deer are moving. With a rifle, however, in the 
hand of a good shot, the business is soon over, without frighten- 
ing the rest of the herd a teuth part so much, or making them 
change their quarters to such a distance ; and even if the shot is 
heard by the keepers, which is a great chance, it is not easy to 
judge exactly from which direction it comes amongst the nu- 
merous corries and glens which confuse and mislead the 
listener. 
Ronald told me that one day his dogs brought a fine stag to 
bay, in a burn close to the house of the forester on the ground 
where he was poaching: “‘ The forester luckily was no at hame, 
sir; but the dogs made an awful noise, yowling at the stag; and 
a bit lassie came out and tried to stone them off the beast ; so I 
was feared they might turn on her, and I just. stepped down from 
where I was looking at them, and putting my handkerchief over 
my face, that the lassie mightn’t ken me, took the dogs away, 
though it was a sair pity, as it was a fine beast ; and one of the 
dogs was quite young at the time, and it would have been a grand 
chance for blooding him.” 
Many a deer is killed during the bright moonlight nights. 
The poacher in this case finds out some grassy burn or spot of 
ground, where the deer are in the habit of feeding. Within 
shot of this, and with his gun loaded with three pistol-balls, or a 
bullet auu two slugs, he lies ensconced, taking care to be well 
concealed before the time that the deer come to feed, and keeping 
to leeward of the direction in which they will probably arrive. 
Many an hour he may pass in his lonely hiding-place, listening 
to every cry and sound of the different animals that are abroad 
during the night time, and peering out anxiously to see if he can 
distinguish the object of his vigil approaching him. Perhaps, 
although he may hear the deer belling or clashing their horns 
together in the distance, none come within reach of his gun 
during the whole night; and the call of the grouse-cock just 
before daybreak, as he collects his family from their roosting- 
places in the heather, warns him that it is time to leave his 
ambuscade, and betake himself home, chilled and dispirited. It 
often, however, happens that he hears the tramp of the deer as 
