THE RED DEER 
Even this success, however, could not compensate for the loss of “ the 
big one.’* 
October 13. There comes a day sometimes when nothing can go right, 
and to-day we experienced the worst of luck. During the night a heavy 
snowstorm set in, and all the tops are white and frozen to-day. It was a 
grand day for walking, but the hills were very slippery, and the high 
ground at Dalness is an easy place on which to break your leg if you are 
not careful. The wind being right, we climbed to the top of the spurs, 
straight from the house, and at once found a grand stag on Buchaille 
Mhor. Though not nearly so heavy a stag as the “ great one ” of the day 
before, I think his head was heavier, being very large, with twelve good 
points. He was high up on the mountain, and, much to my chagrin, I could 
not induce the stalker to get above him. He would only go on to the same 
level, and then advance up wind. This policy I felt all the time was wrong, 
as the hinds kept moving in front of the stag and drawing him on. 
The inevitable, of course, happened. We followed on and on, and then 
“jumped ’* the stag, who surprised us by suddenly appearing on a high 
brow within eighty yards, and dashing out of sight before I could raise 
the rifle. It was an exasperating loss, as he was one of the four best I 
have ever seen, or am ever likely to see, in Scotland. 
The deer had had a good fright and descended into Larig Ashton, and 
went away up the other peaks of Glencoe, right out of our ground, so 
there was nothing to be done but swallow disappointment and look for 
something else above Larig Ashton. The weather was so beautifully clear 
we reached the very tops of the mountain, and could see the serried ranks 
of hills away to the islands of the west coast. First we spied the Glen 
Etive face and found a good stag from the very top of Buchaille Mhor 
(3,000 feet), but owing to a sudden shift of wind, one of the hinds got us when 
we were still 300 yards away, and the deer went straight away down hill. 
We therefore ascended again and passed over the top of the steep rocks 
above Larig Ashton. 
Whilst admiring the view I saw a golden eagle descend from the heavens 
on a mob of deer, hundreds of feet below. It was a beautiful sight to see 
the swoop of the great bird as it came like a small black thunderbolt 
from the pellucid sky. 
In its descent it made quite a loud humming noise, and did not alter 
its course or move upwards again until within a few yards of the deer, 
which burst outwards in every direction, as if a bomb had been exploded 
127 
