THE RED DEER 
On the hill itself the wind was perfect, otherwise the conditions of 
stalking amongst so many deer would have been impossible. It blew 
steadily from the base uphill, and after a big circle, so as to be beyond all 
chance of prying eyes, we got into a good position on the summit, from 
which we could see a considerable portion of the hill and the deer below. 
We advanced a little and then came to an abrupt halt, faced with the mag- 
nitude of the task ahead. Already hinds were creeping up our flanks on 
both sides, and we dare not go too far downhill, for at any moment a 
puff or curl of wind might take our scent to one of these, who were certain 
to be within view of the mass of deer below. Whilst thus waiting and dis- 
cussing the situation I observed an interesting little incident in bird life 
in the shape of a peregrine falcon pursuing five grouse which it had just 
missed. This ding-dong chase lasted for at least two miles before pursuer 
and pursued passed out of sight. 
Whilst this incident was in progress we noticed that the hinds that 
had threatened our flanks had fed away over the top behind us, so we at 
once advanced by means of a prone crawl. The stalker must get used to 
an occasional ducking, but I doubt if I have ever been more thoroughly 
soaked than during this 300 yards crawl, flat on our faces, down this 
swampy hillside. There was no solid ground at all, but just short sedgy 
grass growing out of the marsh. There was not a dry spot on MacDonnell 
and myself when at last we arrived at a tuft slightly larger than the rest 
and could just see the top of the back of the royal still about 250 yards 
below, and surrounded by hinds. Hinds were again on all sides of us now, 
some not fifty yards away, and our position was critical, when, at the 
very moment I feared a long shot would be our only chance, a welcome 
snow shower came tearing up the hill in our faces. This was our 
opportunity. Disregarding the deer on our flanks we half ran and half 
crawled in a rapid downhill dash, and as soon as I saw the first hind, 
which I knew to be near our stag, look up and cock her ears, I sat 
up and peered for the royal in the mist of snowflakes. Yes; there he 
was, but looking horribly distant. But, fortunately, he was still the 
rutting stag, caring for nothing, and had not noticed the alarm spread- 
ing on all sides. I raised the rifle and put the little Mannlicher sight 
on his side, and pulled at once. I saw him “lift ” to the shot at once 
and stagger a yard or two. That was a good enough sign, for Mac- 
Donnell had already clapped me on the shoulder in silent congratula- 
tion. After a momentary pause I saw the stag recover himself and 
N 89 
