THE REINDEER AND ITS PURSUIT 
herd were lying down or dozing in the early morning sun. It was a sight 
I shall never forget. 
Seeing that all conditions were so favourable I now made plans to com- 
mence the stalk at once so that I could get sufficiently near to pick out 
the best head. Ole, of course, wished to accompany me, but after a heated 
conversation in Norse, which he professed to misunderstand, I got him 
at last firmly planted behind a rock, and then I slid down the hill until 
I was within 300 yards of the herd. Then, finding a convenient rock, I 
used my telescope to some advantage for ten minutes. There were at least 
six good heads in the herd, but one with good tops seemed far larger than 
any of the others. Fortunately this stag stood on a tiny green plateau with 
another good stag, and I knew that if I could only kill him dead I should 
probably have a good chance at the one close to him, whereas if shot in the 
heart he was sure to roll and fall down the hill, alarming all the rest. 
Having decided this I at once started on the critical part of the stalk for 
the last 200 yards, but had hardly commenced it when some uneasy feeling 
caused me to turn my head, and there was that villain Ole upon his knees 
on the skyline watching me with intense interest. The man was either 
mad or no reindeer hunter to do such a thing, and I had to crawl back 
behind a rock and hurl pantomimic curses in his direction before he moved 
out of sight. The next thing I saw was Ole crawling down the hill towards 
me, so I started off again on the stalk resolved to chance his manoeuvres 
being undetected. 
It is a moment of severe strain to the stalker when he looks over that 
last rock from which he hopes to get his shot, and all the more is it so 
when he knows that the opportunity which he has long hoped for has come 
at last. One does not get into a big herd of reindeer with several large 
stags of the finest quality often nowadays, so I heaved a sigh of relief 
when I saw the long -horned stag and his comrade standing in just the 
same position as I had last seen them. I looked carefully at my old Mann- 
licher to see that all was in order, and got into a good position to shoot. 
What I wanted was a chest -shot, which I have always found a very 
deadly one at deer. If you place a bullet just at the bottom of the neck the 
stag invariably sinks down or only staggers a yard and falls. I had to 
wait fully ten minutes before the long -horned buck would move, and then 
he turned his back towards me, but fortunately this did not last for long. 
He moved round again and faced me, dropping his neck in a day-dream. 
I was now so steady I thought I would try and break his neck from above, 
303 
