THE RED DEER 
on to our ground in the evening, but they were constantly on the move, 
and we succeeded in killing only three small beasts. 
The ease or difficulty of approaching deer seems to depend very much 
on the formation of the ground and the way it faces according to the prevail- 
ing winds. Whilst the great open “ pocket ” corries of Central Argyll 
are always difficult to stalk in, those rolling flats and long faces of wes- 
tern Ross-shire, where the west wind blows almost regularly through- 
out the stalking season are often easy. I And on reference to my diary 
that I had six days’ stalking in September, 1898, on Braemore and 
Kinlochmoidart. I had seven stalks and killed eight stags, two of 
them fine beasts over sixteen stone. One day in Braemore I had a 
misfortune, one that happens to every one, of hitting a stag high through 
the shoulder blade. The bullet, I presume, did not open, for after lying 
prone for a few seconds the stag rose to its feet, rolled into a hollow 
where I could not see it and then dashed off and went right out of sight. 
This is the sort of occurrence that usually happens only to royals and 
fourteen -pointers, but in this case it was a very moderate “ switch-horn,” 
so the circumstance was not so regrettable. I trust, however, that the 
beast recovered. 
The stalk Fred Stuart and I had with the big stag at Kinlochmoidart 
was most enjoyable, and one I shall always remember, for it took place in 
the most glorious scenery in the whole of Scotland, and that is to say in 
the whole world. Nowhere in our islands are such exquisite landscapes 
to be found as exist in that north-west corner of Scotland between Loch 
Shell and Malig, to the west of the new West Highland Railway. Here the 
climate is very mild, and magnificent deciduous trees, such as oak, syca- 
more, walnut, ash, and other kinds, flourish in the river bottoms, above 
them comes the fir and birch area, then the heather belt, and lastly the 
green deer forest. It is a perfect mixture of fine southern vegetation with 
that of Highland character, and when the sun lights up this ” wet pebble ” 
it gives glorious surroundings in which to enjoy sport. At that date few 
stags were killed at Kinlochmoidart — about five in a season — so it was 
very kind of my host to grant me another day on the hill, for I had already 
killed a good beast on the first day. 
There was talk of a very big eleven -pointer which had been seen more 
than once in previous years and we hoped to find him with his hinds out 
on the hill to the east of the house, as that was his usual abiding -place when 
he left the woods. A climb of about 400 feet took us to the best spying 
111 
