RED DEER HUNTING IN GALICIAN FORESTS 
I was walking in front when I was suddenly arrested by the strong scent 
of deer, and immediately afterwards noticed the fresh track of a large stag, 
so fresh indeed that Hryc, on seeing it, at once dived his hand into his 
little ruck -sack and produced his favourite tootler. The artificial roar 
was not answered, and after waiting a few moments the hunter proceeded 
along the path “ roaring at intervals.” Suddenly I heard an answer about 
a mile away in the forest below. I stopped, but neither of the two men had 
heard it, and when, after a moment or two of hesitation, they advanced 
again, suggesting that I had only heard a distant cow, I felt somewhat 
annoyed, as I knew I had not been mistaken. We had only taken a few 
steps, however, when a loud challenge welled up from the trees some half a 
mile to our left. The men were now in great excitement, for the stag was 
evidently travelling rapidly towards us. In fact only a minute seemed to 
have elapsed when he roared again grandly within a few hundred yards. 
Our attention was next called to the breaking of sticks and the sound of 
galloping feet immediately beneath our position. A large hind then ap- 
peared, trotting slowly along the hillside. She stopped to look back, and I 
felt sure the stag was coming from that direction, when a pressure on my 
right elbow and a hand pointed down the path to the left, turned my atten- 
tion in the right line. There stood the stag, panting with his exertions, 
and looking straight down the hill at the hind. He stood facing us in the 
only spot in which it was possible to obtain a clear view, so I lost no 
time in putting a bullet into his chest. He fell off the path, with all four 
legs in the air, and died at once. The capture was altogether lucky, not 
to say fluky, for we had done nothing but walk home right down on the 
path and kill our stag. Such good fortune always happens if you go on 
long enough . The stag was only a nine -pointer, but a better head than the 
first I had killed, yet nothing to be proud of. Thus ended my experiences 
at Tartarow for the year 1909. 
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