XXII 
THE DEER 
2 37 
ten times better sport than shooting a deer at 
bay. 
I am afraid that Sandy Macarra never quite 
forgave me for that hunt. “ Weel, you’ve just 
ruined the dogs for ever, and there’ll be nae haudin’ 
them frae the deer noo. They’ll just spoil the 
flesh, and tear the deer to pieces.” This was the 
keeper’s idea of what I thought was good sport. 
Certainly the venison did not belong to me, neither 
did the dogs. 
Deer-stalking in the Highlands is a tempting 
theme, upon which I have no space to dilate. It 
awakens recollections of keen excitement, and the 
kindness of old friends, nearly all of whom are gone. 
