JEPSON is left at home, as he is expecting a couple of local Ministers
to tea, but he has told me I'm "bound to come across whole herds of
them," if I only tramp long enough. Well, I've been at it five hours,
and I certainly ought to have spotted something by this time. By Jove,
though, what's that moving in the path ahead of me? It is! _It is a
stag!_ A magnificent fellow--though he appears to have only one horn.
But, how odd! I believe he has seen me, and yet doesn't seem scared!
Yes, he is actually approaching in the most leisurely fashion in the
world. But that isn't the correct thing. In deer-stalking, I'm sure
you ought to stalk the deer, not the deer stalk you. And this creature
is absolutely coming down on me. Oh! I can't stand this. I shall have
a shot at him. Bang! Have fired--and _missed_! And, by Jove, the stag
doesn't seem to mind! He is coming nearer and nearer. He actually
comes close to where I am kneeling, and with facetious friendliness
removes my Tam o'Shanter! But, hulloah! who is this speaking? "Ha, and
would ye blaze awa wi' your weepons upon poor old Epaminondas, mon!"
It is an aged Highlander who is addressing me, and he has just turned
out of a bye-path. He is fondling the creature's nose affectionately,
and the stag seems to know him. I remark as much.

"Ha! sure he does," he replies, "Why there's nae a body doon the glen
but has got a friendly word for puir Old Epaminondas. You see he's
blind o' one 'ee, and he's lost one o' his antlers, and he's a wee bit
lame, and all the folk here about treat him kindly, when ye thought to
put that bit o' lead into him just noo, sure he was just oomin' to ye
for a bit o' oatmeal cake."

I express my regret for having so nearly shot the "Favourite of the
Glen" through inadvertence! I explain that I came out deerstalking,
and did not expect, of course, to come across a perfectly tame and