THE RED DEER 
lived, and then died of old age, but these instances are very rare, and the 
wounds were made by solid and not expanding bullets. 
The ten -pointer was a fine beast of 15 stone, with nice black horns and 
strong points. 
October 12. A perfect deluge of rain, but it does not do to stay at home 
on such days. If you can see at all it is best to go out, for the best stag in 
Scotland is as likely to be found in rain as in sunshine. So Duncan Cameron 
and I trudged away to the Black Hills in such torrents of falling water 
that we were soaked to the skin by eleven o’clock, though both of us wore 
mackintoshs of a kind. We kept moving all day and found little, as the 
telescope was out of the question, and the weather such as to drive all 
deer to the north side of Scour-n-na-lappich. On the north side of the 
Black Hills there is a straggling wood of rowans and birch trees, and 
on the edge of this we found a fine stag with about thirty hinds, in the 
middle of the afternoon. The deer were constantly moving and suspicious, 
and in trying a descent through the wood we were detected by the hinds, 
who rushed away and kept the stag moving for two hours afterwards. They 
did not, however, move off the beat, so we kept them in sight in the hope 
that they might settle down before the evening. The light was going when, at 
last, they stopped amongst some rugged peat hags, and as they remained 
in this position, keenly intent on their back tracks, the only possible line 
of advance, we had to try them, or abandon the pursuit without a shot. 
It was not possible to be wetter than we were at the time, so an additional 
cold bath in sustained movement presented no terrors. On descending 
into the valley we found that the hags where the deer stood were so large 
as to obscure them from view, so we had a comparatively easy advance 
up to the firing point. It was certain, however, that I should only get 
a very quick shot at the stag as the herd was sure to bolt immediately I 
disclosed my head or the rifle at close range. I was ready, therefore, 
for a running shot as I peeped round the side of the black mound of turf. 
In an instant I saw nothing but the vanishing sterns of bobbing hinds, 
but the stag, whose whole body was completely hidden by a large peat 
hag, just looked up for a moment at the object of disturbance. I at once 
took a snapshot at his neck, and rolled him over dead on the spot. He 
was a good beast, just under 15 stone and a good deal “ run.” 
October 13. To-day, alas the last of this delightful week, I went to 
a new beat, Gairnsorie, on the south side of the Farrer, and almost 
opposite to Deanie. The stalker was one John Fraser. The ground was not 
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