A STORMY WEEK IN THE EOREST 103 
day which illustrated the truth of the proverb 
that " misfortunes never come singly." 
The followmg day, Tuesday, showed no signs 
of improvement in the weather. Thick mist on 
the tops, steady rain, and a wind, as usual, in the 
wrong direction. Stuart was obliged to drive 
some miles off to see a friend, but I determined 
once more to try the hill. This time I was sent 
out on the home beat. I started off with the 
stalker and an old gillie named Angus, who had 
had so much experience that he would have made 
an admirable stalker, and who is always very keen. 
I also had two ponies and a pony boy. The pony 
path goes straight up the mountain-side for two 
and a half miles. By the time we reached the 
point where the path stopped we were close to the 
edge of the mist, and the outlook seemed hopeless. 
We decided to cross over the opposite hill and 
go down on the other side, hoping that by that 
time the mist might have lifted. We left instruc- 
tions with the pony boy to wait for two hours, 
and then if he heard nothing from us to go back 
right round to a point on the other side of the hill 
and wait there. On our way up the hill I found 
some beautiful little bastard pimpernel in flower, 
not very common in this part of the country. As 
