that his horns almost rested on his back, I saw at once that, i f not the big stag we had
been so anxiously watching, he was at any rate quite as good.
And now for the shot ! In place o f my own rifle, the striker o f which had gone wrong
on the previous day, my host had kindly lent me a 450 Reilly, which, though otherwise
perfect, shot very high at a close range, as he was careful to point out. So when this
monarch o f the glen stood and boldly faced me within 30 yards,-1 took a very fine sight
below his heart. What, then, was my amazement on seeing him swing round and dash at
full speed down the hill again as the only response to my shot ! It seemed to me impossible
to have missed him standing as he was, even supposing the bullet had gone point blank
without any rise in the trajectory. Still there he was, bolting down the rocks apparently
unscathed, and at the moment there was no chance o f getting in the other barrel, as at the
foot o f the rocks immediately beneath us he was met by two other big-stags, upon which he
turned away along the hill-side, with them so close at his heels that it was impossible to
shoot without the risk o f “ haunching” him. For some 50 yards the three animals sailed
along at a steady gallop, when suddenly number two made a savage thrust with his horns at
the leading stag, throwing him upon his haunches right off the path. Grant was now sure
our stag was badly hit ; yet after recovering his legs he still moved on at a good pace,
following in the steps o f the other two, who had by this time shot past him. A t last a sharp
turn in the path brought him to a slow trot, and from that to a quick shuffling walk, which
was apparently distressful. As he was still only about 100 yards off, and presented a good
broadside, I let him have the left barrel as he was on the point o f turning away again, and
once more he started off at a hard gallop. But it was the poor beast’s last effort. After
going some 30 yards his legs suddenly gave way under him, and he rolled over and over
like a rabbit shot bolting from a hill-side. As he bumped along from one plateau to another
Grant was loud in his lamentations. “ Hoots, toots,” he cried, “ when will she stop ? when
will she stop ? She’ll be jelly whatever ” ; and as the corrie was six or seven hundred feet
deep, I felt sure that the carcass would be smashed to pieces i f it reached the bottom. But
fortune favoured us this time. The line o f the fall was happily an unbroken series o f grassy
slopes terminating in big boulders. Only one rock had been struck, and in a few minutes
Grant and I were at the side of the dead stag, filled with delight in his beauty and at the
wonderful good luck that had enabled us to enjoy it.
“ Now, Mr. Millais, how about that six months’ pay P ” remarked the stalker, with a
sly twinkle in his eye. Yes, there was no doubt about it, this was the identical stag that
all day long I had been so anxious to shoot, and now I could hardly contain myself for joy
at the realisation o f my hope. He was not by any means a heavy stag, scaling only 15 stone
clean, but his beautifully compact frame, leonine neck, and branching antlers came'fully up
to my anticipations on first viewing him through the glass. The tops o f the horns, which
lacked one point to make him Royal, were very fine, as were also the tray points, but there
was a perceptible falling off in the strength o f the brows and bays, showing that he was
evidently an old beast on the decline. Whether or not the lost point was broken o ff in the
fall down-hill we could not say, but the loss was evidently a recent one. The first bullet,
we found, had struck below and behind the heart, narrowly escaping a clean miss, while the
Second, penetrating the ribs, had brought matters to a conclusion.