54 
FOR E S T A X 1) S T R E A M 
February, 1919 
it. So we moved forward again. I 
scrambled through a wide belt of most 
uncompromising tussocks and crept up 
the back of the knoll. When at last 1 
peeped over the top, the stag was below 
me, less than a hundi'ed yards to my 
left. Had I tried to approach him 
the other way he would have seen me. 
And, before he realized anything of my 
proceedings, my bullet had gone through 
him. He gave one or two convulsive 
kicks, as he lay on the ground. That 
was all. I doubt if the beautiful animal 
had any pain in his passing. 
And now a curious thing happened. 
Just as I fired, another stag rose out of 
a corrie I had not noticed, about 1,000 
yards away from the far end of the 
knoll on which I stood. He had heard 
the shot perhaps and wanted to know 
what was going on. Anyhow he came 
straight towards me and right down 
wind. I threw myself flat and presently 
I sa\v the tips of his antlers through 
the heather, approaching the extremity 
of the little hill. I waited until I saw 
the antlers turning to the left and then 
I knew that he was changing his course. 
So I sprang to my feet and saw him 
passing round the end of the knoll. It 
was a lovely shot. But talk about wind ! 
It was blowing so hard that when I 
put my carbine to my shoulder I could 
hardly hold it. The foresight bobbed 
about like a cork in a mill-race. I fired 
one shot, which went over, I think. Then 
I scrambled to the top of the knoll and 
gave him another, which splashed up 
the water under his body, as he dived 
into the corrie and vanished. I followed 
him for about half a mile and got 
glimpses of him once or twice in the 
distance ; but he was making hot-foot 
for the hills and night was coming on. 
So I returned to my dead stag and found 
McAndrew contemplating him with evi- 
dences of complete satisfaction. 
“You’ve got the Red Stag all right,” 
was his greeting, when I came up. 
“That’s him and no mistake.” So, after 
all, that stalk was worth the trouble. 
We then took off the stag’s beautiful 
orange coat with our pen-knives; an op- 
eration McAndrew did not believe pos- 
sible. He had left his hunting knife at 
home. He was still more incredulous 
when I told him, that I meant to take 
off the stag’s head with my pen-knife. 
He said that an axe was necessary. But 
I performed the operation very quickly. 
It is quite simple when you know how. 
McAndrew carried the head, but we left 
the carcass to be brought in later. We 
were back to our tea and our turf fire, 
as the pale moon rose in the stormy sky. 
This time we triumphed over the fisher- 
man and he was pleased as we were. 
F or the next two days we were 
weather-bound. Rain came down in 
torrents, with occasional storms of 
hail that clattered on the roof like the 
discharge of machine-guns. The moun- 
tains were blotted out and we were cut 
off from the visible world by a grey 
pall of vapor. The river rose and lapped 
at our doorstep ; and the angry gale 
battered at our windows and banged at 
our doors, as if all the ghosts of all the 
away from corries or cover of any kind, 
due west of where we lay and about 3,000 
yards off. I turned on the glass and 
there right enough was the Black Stag 
lying against a little bank of black turf. 
This was the third time I had seen 
him and there was no mistaking his 
peculiar color and his ebon antlers. 
There he was. But the question was: 
How on Earth to get at him? 
H e had chosen his resting-place with 
consummate skill. There was no 
cover within half a mile of where 
he lay. The wind had changed a little 
since the morning and was now' a point 
more North. This was in our favor to 
some extent. But, on the other hand, if 
we went towards the hills too far, he was 
certain to get our wind. And it w'as very 
difficult to distinguish the spot where he 
lay. How'ever, I marked a crack on the 
crest of Sleive Cor, straight over the 
stag from where we were, that would 
give me a sort of a bearing later on; 
and we decided on a wide turning move- 
ment from the left. It looked rather a 
forlorn hope; but there w'as j nothing 
else to try. We, therefore, came back 
from the mound to the corrie behind us; 
crossed it and bore away South to an- 
other corrie, that ended as well as w’e 
could judge about three-quarters of a 
mile from where the Black Stag lay. 
When we reached this corrie we fol- 
lowed its windings until we were about 
south of our quarry. Then we climbed 
up on the moor and I guessed at our 
position from the rough bearing I had 
taken on the crest of Sleive Cor. We 
found later that I was not very far out 
in my reckoning. But the wind had 
changed again meantime and 
. had fallen back to the West. 
V This made things more difficult. 
\ Fortunately, however, the moor 
* rose in a gentle swell just 
where we left the corrie; so we 
Wj crept up to the sky-line and 
JB tried the glass. There was 
nothing to be seen! The moor 
flB seemed flat and unbroken for at 
^ least two miles in front of us. 
W I could see the cleft on Sleive 
Cor aw’ay to the left and our 
knoll far away to the right and I knew 
the Black Stag w’as somewhere to our 
right front, but we could see nothing! 
The two miles of country in front of us 
looked as if it could not afford cover 
for a rabbit, much less for such a lordly 
monarch of the moor as the Black Stag. 
Y'et he could hardly have absented him- 
self from the universe, so there he must 
be, perhaps at that very moment close 
enough to spy us with his keen eyes, 
and already planning a noiseless retreat 
from the presence of his enemy. It would 
not do to waste precious moments in 
indecision We could not depend too long- 
upon the Black Stag’s desire to rest. -At 
any moment he might rise and go aw’ay. 
mighty huntsmen of ancient days, deer- 
slayers of bygone ages, had gathered 
furiously around us in rage at our in- 
trusion on their domain. There was 
nothing for it but to remain indoors. 
On the third morning the storm abated 
and the wind shifted to the West. It 
was still raining; but after two days in 
the house we felt it time to tempt For- 
tune once more. McAndrew and I 
started out. We crossed the swollen 
river with the valiant aid of our friend 
the donkey and went North along the 
bank. Presently the rain stopped. A 
little later with the help of our glasses, 
we made out a stag and two hinds about 
a mile to the Northwest. But it was 
not the Black Stag and we had no 
thought for any lesser game. So we 
bore away still northward until we came 
to a corrie, running back to the hills. 
I saw the track of a stag by the stream 
and later came to where he had been 
rubbing his horns on a small shrub. We 
decided to follow up the corrie. After 
scrambling and paddling along for about 
20 minutes, I saw a stag’s antlers about 
200 yards off, moving away. So we 
crawled on. And presently up sprang 
the stag. But he was not the Black 
Stag. He carried a small head. So I 
let him go. 
By this time we were half-way up to 
the foot-hills. We continued along the 
corrie for another mile or so. We were 
now on higher ground and looking back, 
I could see the deer we had spotted 
earlier. They had now winded us and 
were moving about uneasily. But we 
had no concern for them now. The Black 
Stag alone occupied our minds. Away 
to our right was a hog-backed mound, 
about 1,000 yards from where 
we stood. I suggested going 
up there to spy and away we ■ 
• went. When we got thei'e, a 
E sleet shower came on. I 
I ^ curled up in the heather and 
W had a smoke. McAndrew 
H swept the country with the 
m glasses. He reported one 
The Red Stag 
hind about miles to the east. Then 
the sun came out. I thought I could 
distinguish something like a big boulder 
in a small patch of black bog, in the 
middle of a wide stretch of moor, far 
So we decided on a flank march to the 
right. Whatever happened, the stag 
could not wind us. Off we went ob- 
liquely for two or three hundred yards. 
We could see nothing on the apparently 
flat moor with the naked eye, so we 
stopped and tried the glass again. Me- 
