224 
WILD BEASTS AND THEIR WAYS 
CHAP. 
the stag would come to its final stand. The river 
Bruar lay before us about a mile distant, and, as we 
hurried forward, I caught sight of a white speck in 
the far distance. I felt sure this was Oscar, and the 
stag was still in front, although from its colour, 
matching with the brown heather, we could not 
distinguish any animal beyond the hound. 
We were not long in reaching the steep banks of 
the Bruar, about a mile and a half above the falls. 
Nothing was in sight, but as we halted to listen, 
our hearts beat with delight at hearing the 
voice of Oscar, with the stag at bay somewhere 
beneath, in the dark hollow of a sudden bend. 
Hurrying towards the spot, the voice of the dog 
ceased ; the stag had broken his bay, and instead 
of crossing the precipitous rocks, it turned back, and 
passed us at full speed within 40 yards, with the 
dog in chase behind it. A shot through the neck 
rolled it over, and for the first time Oscar seized it 
by the throat. I did not fire at the neck, as I had 
intended to hit the shoulder; but I had been 
running for four or five miles, and I was out of 
breath. 
My first shot was too high. It was in good line 
just behind the shoulder, but it had passed through 
the animal exactly below the spine. The shock 
had knocked it over, but it had almost instantly 
recovered, and practically it was as fresh as though 
it had not received a bullet. 
When aiming at an animal that is standing 
upon a steep incline below you, the greatest care 
