THE RED DEER 
such a number of points. Almost any stag wounded in the back or hind- 
quarters will, when brought to bay, strike out at a man or dog with 
forelegs, but the red deer is not a dangerous animal. I have never seen 
a stag charge, as a wounded moose will sometimes do, but it is well to 
shoot one in the neck as quickly as possible to put it out of pain. 
It must be confessed, however, that in Scotland, where the shot is gener- 
ally taken in the open, there is scant excuse for wounding deer nowadays, 
owing to the power and excellence of modern rifles, but such a contre- 
temps is bound to happen one of these days if you continue the sport long 
enough. I often think of one awful day on Ceannacroc, when I was stalking 
with the present Lord Tweedmouth. We found two splendid stags on the 
north slope of the “ Long Glen,” and after a somewhat difficult stalk, 
got down to within 120 yards of them. As the guest, I was given the first 
shot at the best stag, whilst it was decided that Mr Marjoribanks, as he 
then was, should fire at the other when it ran. I fired and hit my stag about 
four inches too far back behind the heart. The second stag dashed off down 
the hill, giving a difficult chance, which my companion missed. The 
animal I had wounded now stood still, evidently badly wounded, and 
after a few moments walked slowly down the hill for a hundred yards 
and lay down. All would be well, I thought, for we had only to wait an 
hour and then I could get down and finish him. 
After pausing a few minutes the stalker turned round and signalled 
to the gillie lying concealed behind a rock to bring up the dog, a young 
and untrained “ Guisachan ” retriever. By all that was unfortunate, 
the boy misunderstood the sign, and judged it to mean that he was to 
loose the hound. In a moment, to our horror, we saw a tearing yellow 
body flash down the hill at breakneck speed, dash past the wounded stag, 
which it ” lifted ” and scared to death, and rush headlong across the 
corrie towards a big herd of deer, which it proceeded to chase for miles 
into the heart of the sanctuary. This was indeed dreadful, but worst of all 
the wounded one itself, seeing its fleeing comrades, took up their line 
and hobbled at a walking pace into the sanctuary, where no one was ever 
allowed to go. That evening I felt like Emerson, who said he always felt 
that he was part of a funeral procession, in which he was the corpse and 
all the rest of the mourners when things had gone wrong. It was a bitter 
experience, and shows what mischief may be done by letting a young dog 
loose. 
It is a sign that a deer is very badly wounded if he goes down wind. 
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