38 
WILD NORWAY. 
nothing but that big bull should draw first shot. Still 
he came not. Where was he—indeed where were both 
the big beasts ? 
Only two small deer now remained in view. Lars 
was in despair. Then, right round on our left, some¬ 
thing caught my eye. That something was the tips of 
those grand palmated antlers just appearing over the 
broken ridge, and on our side of the lake! Luck was 
indeed about to make a noble amend for any sorry 
tricks played us in the past. The big beast, that for 
three long hours I had watched with almost fiendish 
yearning, was actually going to give me a standing shot 
at less than one hundred yards. Half a dozen forward 
steps and his white neck and dark shoulder were beauti¬ 
fully exposed. Already, ere his head had appeared, the 
rifle had been shifted over, and now the foresight dwelt 
lovingly on a thrice-refined aim. (See frontispiece.) 
The *450 bullet struck to an inch, just where the shaggy 
mane joined the brown shoulder. The beast winced all 
over, but neither moved nor fell. A moment’s survey 
and I knew by the swaying of his head that he was 
mine, and turned to look for number two. Curiously, 
some of the smaller deer, either mistaking the echo or 
unable to cross a second gorge beyond, came running 
back towards the main corrie, meeting the second stor 
bock as he galloped out of it. Him, as he struggled up 
the steep ascent, sending the stones flying behind, my 
second bullet caught fair on the back, though a foot 
lower than intended. He dropped on his haunches, 
and when I next looked up was dead, rolling down the 
rocks. 
Both leaders being down, I turned attention to 
