XXII 
THE DEER 
2 3 r 
hurrying forward with a deer-hound in the slips. 
When the dog sees the deer, and strains upon his 
collar, he is loosed, and away he goes straight for 
the stag, who is looking after the departed herd, 
and has not observed the approaching hound. 
Suddenly it perceives the danger; as though 
unhurt, the stag flies down the hill-side, running 
obliquely to avoid the steep descent, and the dog 
is shortly at its heels. Both disappear among the 
bushes of a small copse of birch ; a few minutes 
later, everybody is running towards the bay, as the 
deep voice of the hound proclaims that the stag is 
in the river, standing before the dog in bold 
defiance. 
There is hardly a more sporting sight than a 
stag at bay ; but as the dogs are trained simply to 
follow a wounded deer until it stands, when the 
baying of the hound will attract the attention of 
the far-distant men, the termination of the hunt 
is a tame affair, as the deer is shot directly that the 
rifle arrives upon the scene. . . . About thirty-two 
years have passed away since we discussed the 
question whether the deer-hounds at Blair would 
seize a stag, if it were considered necessary. Most 
persons who knew the training of the dogs thought 
not. The Duke of Athole inclined to that opinion. 
On the other side I thought they would, provided 
that no rifles were taken out, and the dogs should 
see that the stag was to be tackled at close quarters 
with the knife. 
There never was a keener sportsman than his 
