THE RED DEER 
stag for twelve years, and much wished to kill him as he was past his best. 
After a stiff climb we heard the stag roaring on the top of the mountain 
above us and, as the mist was heavy and the wind curling all round the top, 
the old stalker advised, what was somewhat unusual, a direct advance 
from below. To get within 250 yards of the deer was easy, but then dif- 
ficulties presented themselves in the form of four hinds looking straight 
at us and another four or five watching the shoulder of the only other means 
of approach. We waited long in the hope that they would move, but they 
appeared to have taken up their position for the day, and although not 
lying down they kept so steady a watch that it looked as if they had been 
stalked every day for months. Cold and uncomfortable as it was, I could 
not fail to admire their intelligence and persistence. 
“ We canna stop here a’ day,” remarked McLeish at last, as a bank of 
cloud hid us as well as the deer. ” Let us get on.” 
We advanced straight up the hill and when the mist rose the hinds 
had gone and we could only hear the stag bellowing on the other side of the 
top. I had no idea what the wind was like where the deer were, for it was 
blowing all ways in our present position, but McLeish was not the least in 
doubt, and severely ordered me to ‘‘ Lie down a’ wee behind yon rock,” 
whilst he took a look ahead. He returned almost immediately, and lay 
beside me without saying a word. I felt instinctively that questions were 
out of place and simply waited. Presently a roar louder than before came 
out of the mist, and McLeish quickly undressed the rifle and handed it to 
me. I must confess to having felt a bit nervous, as this was McLeish’s record 
season, he having achieved twenty -four stalks that year and seen twenty - 
four stags killed under his guidance, and I had no wish to spoil so remark- 
able a performance. But a look at his calm old grizzled face was enough 
to reassure anyone and the confidence that a stag had to die only entered 
my mind. The next roar was still nearer and then came a perfectly dense 
bank of mist to envelop all things. Again and again the stag bellowed, 
and the sound showed he was well within shot. 
‘‘ Look now,” said McLeish, as the mist veered upwards. I did look 
and saw only the head of the stag staring at us some eighty yards away. 
With half an eye on the mist, which I could now see descending again rapidly, 
I knew it was probably my only chance, so placed the sight in the space 
to the right and below the neck of the beast and let go. The echoes died 
away, and I felt I must have missed. This was not, however, McLeish’s 
opinion. ” I think a’ heard the clap,” he said as he rose and put the rifle 
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