CHAP, XXI.] DEATH OF MY FIRST STAG. 175 
ing shot at his shoulder. I immediately touched the trigger, 
feeling at the same time sure of my aim. The ball went true 
and down he fell. I began reloading, but before I had half 
done the stag was up again and making play after the hinds, 
who were galloping up a gentle slope of the hill. The poor 
beast was evidently moving with the greatest difficulty and pain ; 
sometimes coming to his knees, and then recovering himself with 
a strong effort, he still managed to keep not far behind them. 
I sat down in utter despair: looking round too for Donald and 
Bran I could see nothing of them. Between anxiety and vex- 
ation I did not know what to do. All at once I saw the hinds 
dash away in different directions, and the next moment my gal- 
lant Bran appeared in the midst of them. I shouted with joy. 
On came the dog, taking no notice of the hinds, but making 
straight for the stag, who stood still fur one instant, and then 
rushed with apparentty full vigour down the hill. Down they 
came towards the burn, the dog not five yards behind the stag, 
but unable to reach his shoulder (the place where he always 
struck his game). In a few moments deer and hound went 
headlong and seemingly both together into the burn. Donald 
appeared running like a lunatic: with good judgment he had, 
when I left him, gone to cut off the deer in case I wounded one 
and it took up the hill. As good luck would have it, the hinds 
had led off the stag right up to where Donald and Bran were, 
notwithstanding his inclination to go the other way. I ran to 
see what had become of them in the burn, expecting to find the 
stag at bay. When I got there, however, it was all over. The 
deer had probably tumbled from weakness, and Bran had got his 
fangs well into the throat of the poor brute before he could rise 
again. The gallant dog, when I was up with him, lay down 
panting with his fore-paws on the deer, and wagging his tail 
seemed to congratulate me on my victory, and to expect to be 
caressed for his share in it. A fine stag he was, in perfect 
order, with noble antlers. Donald added to my satisfaction by 
applauding my manner of getting up to him, adding that he 
never would have thought it possible to kill a stag on such bare 
and flat ground. Little did I feel the fatigue of our three 
hours’ walk, two of them in the dark and hard rain. We did 
not go home, but went to a shepherd’s house, whose inhabitants 
