Februaky, 1919 
FOREST AND STREAM 
53 
rifle, took a hurried glance along the 
sights, pressed the trigger. Miss-fire! 
Out with the cartridge. In with an- 
other. Bang! Missed! Out with the 
empty shell. In with another. Miss- 
fire again! The stag by this time was 
round the corner, unscathed. We picked 
up his trail and followed him. He was 
in a hurry and easily traced; his hoof- 
prints showing deep in the soil. As usual 
he ran up wind and we followed him 
across the face of Sleive Cor until we 
came to a valley, that branched West 
into the range. By this time he had 
recovered from his panic. He was walk- 
ing now and we could only track him 
with difficulty. So we climbed to the 
top of a mound and searched the coun- 
try with our glasses. By and by we 
picked him up, about two miles off, go- 
ing leisurely down to the moor. We 
followed down after him; keeping him 
in view from time to time, until he 
reached the open country. We could see 
him through the glasses, as we followed 
him from hill to hill, moving steadily 
across the flat; stopping to pick the 
grass, or to scratch his head with his 
hind hoof, and then moving on again. 
There was no chance of a shot at him 
now. The light was going. So we 
stood and watched. On he went. Sud- 
denly, like a great beetle, a black figure 
rose out of the barren. “The Black 
Stag again,” said McAndrew. He must 
have been lying on the moor. Our stag 
moved away to the left, still going down. 
The other stood and watched him. Then, 
about half a mile to the left, another 
beetle rose up. A red one this time. It 
was another stag. Number one seemed 
to be a friend of his and he moved 
leisurely towards him, the Black Stag 
standing like a sentinel all the time. 
Then hinds and fawns began to appear 
in all directions on the flat. It was 
nearly night now so we left them in 
peace and made our way home. 
The Fisherman had returned with a 
fine basket of trout and was rather in- 
clined to crow over us. But we for- 
gave him and partook of his catch with 
relish. We could afford to bide our time. 
N ext day a furious storm came 
down, with sheets of rain and hail. 
So we stayed indoors and burnt 
tobacco and turf; grateful for an ample 
supply of both. 
The following day was not much bet- 
ter but we sallied out. This time we 
went to the Northeast, to a new spying 
point; and through a hail shower, I 
picked up two hinds and a stag, with 
the glass. They were in a very awkward 
position from our point of view, but in 
an ideal position from theirs. They were 
where two corries joined. The hinds 
were at the junction of one arm of the 
Y ; and stag a little way up the other 
arm on lower ground. If we went in 
the direction of the hinds, the stag would 
wind us. If we tried to stalk the stag, 
the hinds would see us and give him 
the alarm. These hinds are wonderful 
sentinels; quite as alert as the doe cari- 
bou, or the cow moose, if not more so. 
As it was a case of Hobson’s choice, we 
decided to test the vigilance of the hinds. 
So we swung round to the foot of the 
corrie and crept up it. All went well, 
until the inevitable happened. The hinds 
saw me coming up to the junction of 
the Y and scampered off. I made as 
fast as I could to the ravine where the 
stag lay; but as I got there, he disap- 
peared round the corner. We followed 
on right up to the foot-hills again and 
there we saw the deer half way up the 
mountain. So that ended that hunt. 
We then went North up wind to the 
next corrie and followed its course for 
a couple of miles. Then, turning a cor- 
ner, I saw a hind. I dropped and 
crawled backwards, until I got under the 
corrie bank. But the hind had seen me 
and taken fright. When I saw her next, 
still in the corrie, she had another hind, 
and a stag with her. They were mov- 
ing off. I chanced a snap shot at the 
stag. I could just see his head through 
a bunch of bracken and missed him. 
That ended that day’s hunting. 
Next day the weather improved some- 
what and we started off to our first spy- 
ing place. We saw a stag to the right 
of us and two hinds a long way to the 
right again. The wind and the situation 
were more favorable to us in their case, 
in the event of their having a stag in 
their company. So we decided to try 
our luck with them. We made a good 
job of it. I got within 80 yards of them, 
before they discovered me. But their 
stag was absent, though I found where 
he had been polishing his horns quite 
recently on an apology for a bush at 
a spring close by. 
W E then worked back to our first 
lookout. Our stag was still 
where we had seen him in the 
morning. But he was a long way off 
and he might not be there when we got 
there. “He may be the Red Stag after 
all,” suggested the untiring McAndrew. 
And that decided me. It was blowing 
a regular gale and abominably cold, but 
we hardened our hearts and off we 
started. After about an hour’s smart 
walking, we got round to the back of 
the knoll, where we judged he lay. The 
knoll was arrow-shaped behind and the 
problem was how best to approach him. 
It was blowing more furiously than ever 
in icy whirlwinds. I decided, fortunately 
as it turned out, to go over the centre 
of the knoll, instead of creeping round 
A herd of tame Irish red deer on a gentleman’s estate in Ireland; such deer are never hunted 
