Field Notes and Stalking Yarns 77 
the rocks in front of us, and presently beckoned me to him, and on coming up I found him 
standing over the dead body of the first stag at which I had fired. No. 1—weight 13 stone, 
fair head ; No. 2—weight 12 stone, poor head. And so ended a most enjoyable week. 
Things are not, however, too often couleur de rose with the deer-stalker. Much more 
frequently the elements are against him, and he has to console himself as well as he can with 
the memory of brighter days. A week like the following is much more common. 
I had been stalking for a fortnight in two Northern forests with fair success. The 
weather had been all that could be desired, but good stags were scarce. Naturally on going 
to Black Mount I looked forward to a first-rate week, as I was to stalk on the home beats, 
which are by far the best; but the day I arrived at Forest Lodge the weather broke, and 
we had a thorough dose of West Coast rain. 
1 ^th September 1892.—A long day with Grant on Benzie. Lots of stags, but wind 
most unfavourable. We kept moving deer nearly all day. In the afternoon I got a difficult 
chance at a frightened stag, having to aim at his neck for fear of haunching him. The 
distance was a bit too great, and I missed. Saw a very fine stag late in the evening, but 
twilight coming on, we had to leave him. 
14-th September .—To Loch Baa flats with Buchanan. Wind and rain alike bad for 
stalking. About 5 p.m. found a splendid lot of stags, amongst them two carrying good 
heads, one a Royal ; but, to our annoyance, they kept moving away from us, and then, just 
as we were getting within shot, a perfect deluge of rain came down, and I had a cruel piece 
of bad luck. A big stag was standing clear at about 150 yards, with a small one alongside 
of him. I was obliged to shoot quickly, as they had seen us, and at the very moment that 
I pressed the trigger the little stag—a beast of 10 stone—started forward, covered the larger 
animal, and received my bullet. So quickly did it happen that I had no time to stop the 
pressure on the trigger, and we trudged home in a very different frame of mind from that 
in which we started. 
15th September. —Another day with Grant on Benzie. No luck, no shot, but con¬ 
tinuous rain and mist. 
1 6th September. —Pouring cats and dogs ! Stalked on paper, and did a few sketches 
in the morning. In the evening went out with Maxton Graham and shot a few grouse. 
1 Jth September. —Another beast of a day ! Backwards and forwards on Loch Baa flats, 
without a particle of success. 
The next day was Saturday, and being my last, the fickle goddess was unusually kind, 
and being a day of exceptional interest, perhaps the gentle reader will follow it through 
the next chapter. 
