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The Moor and the Loch
Deer Stalking

This first of British sports can only be enjoyed by the few Highland proprietors who still maintain their forests, and those to whom their permission is extended. Still if the many keen sportsmen who are panting to try their rifles upon a gallant stag were thoroughly entered at deerstalking, they might find less cause to regret their privation than they now imagine. In the first place, no sport is more ruled by the weather: again, one is so dependent on the skill and tact of the stalker, in whose hands, for some time at least, you must be content to act like a mere puppet. And when the deer are driven, a single false move, or the mistaking of a signal by the hill-men employed, may spoil all. In every other kind of shooting, the sportsman ought to trust to his own resources and foresight; but in deer-stalking, unless he has passed his life in the forest, and is thoroughly acquainted with every corrie, crag, and knoll, he had much better trust to those who are. Without this knowledge it is impossible for any one to tell how the wind will blow upon a given point: sometimes it may be north on one side of a hollow and south on the other ; and I have seen the mist moving slowly in one direction along the hill-side, and half an hour afterwards the very reverse, without any change in the wind. To account for this on the spur of the moment would often puzzle the scientific, but the unlettered hill-man, who has only been taught by the rough experience of the crag and the blast, though unable to talk theoretically on the subject, yet, from constant and acute observation, will confidently predict the result; and, taking advantage of every shifting change, bring you within fair rifle distance of the unsuspecting herd.

To a novice, even though an expert rifle-shot, the first sight of "the antlered monarch of the waste" will almost take away the power of hitting him. But to any one accustomed to the sport and constantly practising it, the sameness abates somewhat of its intense interest: for it admits of no variety but the age and dimensions of the stag. In wild-fowl shooting the excitement is kept alive by the various kinds of game that present themselves, from the magnificent hooper to the tiny teal. On the grouse mountains there is often the uncertainty whether the next point may be the red or the "jetty heath-cock," or whether a twiddling snipe may spring, or an Alpine hare start unexpectedly before you. It is the same uncertainty which gives zest to cover-shooting. The golden-breasted pheasant, the russet woodcock, the skulking hare or dodging coney, may all successively appear.

I do not mean by the above remarks to depreciate deer-stalking. It is sport for princes. I only offer them as consolation to those who undervalue the amusement within their reach, by exaggerated ideas of that above it.

No man with good nerves need despair of becoming a tolerable rifle-shot, as the great art is to take plenty of time ; in fact, to shoot as coolly at a deer as at the target. The American backwoodsmen with their ill-balanced rifles can hit the jugular vein of an animal feeding or moving about, with unerring accuracy, at thirty or forty yards. Every one must see how much this depends upon nerve and coolness, and these settlers are taught the self-command, which is the basis of their dexterity, from their earliest years. I recollect being shown, by the owner, a rifle which he considered a chef-d' oeuvre of American workmanship. The most cool-headed forester of our country would have been puzzled to do much execution with it at first. It looked and felt exactly like a toy, with its peaked and silver-mounted toe and heel-plate, long unbalanced barrel, and ludicrously small bore. Our rifles, on the contrary, are beautifully poised, and their weight enables us to take a much steadier aim at a long distance, when the ball, from being much larger, is less affected by the wind. I dare say, however, if a highland deer-stalker and American wood-ranger, both finished adepts in their own way, were fairly matched, each would have a sovereign contempt for the dexterity of the other.

I have constantly observed that the performers most to be depended on with the rifle are what are called "poking shots;" for although the first-rate hand with the fowling-piece may often bring down the deer running in admirable style, yet upon any unexpected fair chance presenting itself, he is apt to fire too quick, forgetting the different style of shooting which is required for a rifle; while the slow man, however taken unawares, always gives himself time for deliberate aim. Any one, also, who has been practising much at snipe, or other quick shooting, will, unless quite on his guard, be almost certain to miss the deer until his hand is brought in, after which, when he again returns to the snipe, they will stand a better chance of escape, from the poking manner in which he will at first be inclined to fire at them. As a boy, I remember being much perplexed to see a gamekeeper miss a fair shot at a deer, when a few days before he had killed seven swifts out of eight flying past at "full bat;" while his father, the old forester whose likeness I have given, could scarcely have touched one, and yet seldom missed a rifle-shot. There was another man who generally accompanied them in their stalking expeditions, and whose shooting was a still greater puzzle. Although not left-handed, he shot from the left shoulder, being unable to close his left eye, and was as slow a performer as ever pulled a trigger. Flying shots he invariably missed, and, at last, seldom fired at; but ground game, except rabbits, had no chance with him. Nothing could flurry or put him out of his shooting. If the shot was not intercepted, and he was only allowed plenty of time, it was certain death.

I had twice an opportunity of seeing these three men fairly tested with the rifle. Some deer being discovered near the top of a high hill, it was arranged, as all their passes were well known, to drive them with some shepherds and their colleys. My brother and I begged hard to join the party, and were placed under charge of the gamekeeper, whose pass was one of the best. Before starting, however, the left-shouldered man wished to fire off an old load, being afraid to risk it at the deer. It was suggested that he should shoot at a hare. We had not gone far when one rose about forty yards off. Even now I think I see the cool way in which he raised his rifle, and, allowing poor puss a free stretch of thirty yards, fired. The hare dropped dead, and, when we went up, she was fairly struck between the shoulders. After a time we were safe in our passes, and the driving-party commenced their manoeuvres. We soon heard the yelp of the dogs, and, shortly after, the floundering of a deer in some mossy ground immediately above the pass. Presently it made its appearance, crossing us at about sixty yards' distance. It was a beautiful chance. Taking deliberate aim, the gamekeeper fired. To our astonishment and chagrin, the deer which had been moving slowly along, bounded forward, frightened enough, but unhurt. No other chance was obtained till near the end of the day, when the old forester fired a tremendous long shot, and struck the deer, which ran for a few hundred yards, and then dropped.

Another time, when the deer had taken the water, there was a general scramble to the shore; a boat was quickly procured, which the cunning animal no sooner saw bearing down than it turned short round, and was within a few yards of grounding, when the three aforesaid stalkers were ready to fire within fair distance. The left-handed man took deliberate aim at the head, the only part above water, and cut off the horns close to the skull. The deer now struck ground, and when bounding along the shore was missed by the gamekeeper, but immediately brought down in admirable style by his old father. That a man could miss a deer, and yet knock down double shots one after another at game, used to appear a complete problem to me ; especially as one of his rivals could not hit a bird at all, and his father as a game-shot was not to be named in the same day with him. After a little practice myself, the solution was plain, I have seen this old man in his eightieth year, bring down a deer running, and last season had some venison sent me, killed by him, when ninety-one years old!!

As I consider this forester the finest specimen I ever met with of a Highlander of the old school, I may perhaps be allowed to mention some of his peculiarities apart from his professional avocations. His words like his shooting are slow, but sure to tell. When addressing his superiors, his manner is marked by the greatest courtesy, without the least approach to servility. He is well read in ancient history, knows all about the siege of Troy, and talks with the greatest interest of Hannibal's passage over the Alps. On one occasion, when several gentlemen were talking on a disputed point of history, he stepped forward, begged pardon for interrupting them, and cleared it up to their utter amazement. His memory is still excellent, and nothing gives him greater delight than old traditions, legends, &c. The last time I saw him, he gave us an account of some of the Roman Catholic bishops of Scotland with characteristic anecdotes. In politics he has his own peculiar opinions, is particularly jealous of the encroachments of the "Great Bear" as he calls Russia, and thinks the allies committed an irreparable error in not partitioning France after the battle of Waterloo. No present finds greater favour than the last Newspaper; and it is curious to see the old man devour in its contents without spectacles. He would not be a true Highlander were he not a firm believer in all their superstitions. Two instances of second-sight he related to me as having happened to himself; although he is very unwilling to talk upon the subject, and I have often noticed his evasive replies to those who questioned him. I premise my account, by saying, that wherever he is known, his word has never been doubted, and I would believe it as implicitly as that of the proudest peer in the realm. One day, when returning very tired from some sporting expedition, he met an acquaintance, accompanied by a young man whom he also perfectly well knew. The first stopped to ask "what sport;" he gave a short answer over his shoulder, and saw the young man walk on. That afternoon he heard he had been killed by a fall from his cart, at the very time of this rencontre. Upon questioning his companion the next day, he said there was no person with him. The other instance happened one rainy evening when looking over his kennel. He saw a man with a grape cleaning out the gutter, and called to know who had desired him to do so. The gutter-cleaner walked slowly towards him, but something having arrested his attention in the mean time, he lost sight of him, and could not make out how he had disappeared; upon inquiring of the overseer, he said this man was unwell and confined to bed. He shortly afterwards recovered, which was sufficient confirmation to the old forester of the truth of his vision, for in all cases of second-sight, where the object approaches, it is a sure sign of recovery, and when it recedes, of death. Another of his prejudices is the lucky or unlucky "first foot." Half the people of the country were one or the other with him. There was a canty old carle of a herd whose happy cheerful face was enough to banish care from every other brow; but the old forester had unfortunately met him on the morning of some unlucky day. Now as it happened that this conscientious old herd, whose boast it was "I never did ahint ma maister's back what I wad na do afore his face," was generally one of the earliest astir; he was oftener the "first-foot" than any other body, and as he came crooning some old Gaelic song, with his staff over his shoulder, and gave his blithe salutation, "Goot mornin, goot mornin; goot sport, goot sport!" a stranger would wonder at the look of gloom which overshadowed the forester's face, and the scarcely articulate grunt which was his only reply, sometimes followed by the half-muttered exclamation, "Chock that body!" To shoot a wild-swan was reckoned a most unlucky feat. One severe winter, when after water-fowl with another man, four hoopers were discovered close to the shore. His companion eagerly pointed them out, when the old forester, who had most likely seen them first, coolly replied, " You see, John, we'll just let them alone! The only thing not truly national about him was substituting a pinch of snuff for a quid of tobacco, and when out on the hills he has often expressed his belief, that the moss-water he was sometimes obliged to drink would long ago have been the death of him had he not always followed it up by the antidote of a pinch which "killed all the venom." But the character of my old friend has beguiled me into too long a digression. I must now return to the rifle.

Every man before firing at deer must be thoroughly acquainted with his own, a point even more important with a rifle than a shot-gun. Under eighty yards, it will most likely shoot a little high; and if the wind is at all strong, it will alter the direction of the ball fully a foot at a hundred yards, for which allowance must be made. The best place to hit a deer, unless he is lying down, and so close as to tempt one to try the head, is just behind the shoulder. If struck fair, he will most likely bound forward ten or twenty yards, and then drop. One that I shot ran fifty yards before it fell, although the lower part of the heart was touched. When this occurs, you may be sure it will never rise again. If, on the contrary, it falls instantaneously, unless shot through the head, neck, or spine, it may very possibly spring up on a sudden, and perhaps escape altogether. If struck too far back, a deer may sometimes run for half a day, and the wound has even been known to heal up, but is more likely to prove fatal the next day. When a deer is discovered lying down, in such a situation that he might dip out of sight the moment he rises, and only his horns visible, the sportsman should advance with extreme caution until the deer hears him, when he will most likely slowly raise and turn his head before springing up. Now is the time to shoot him between the eye and the ear.

The most propitious day for deer-stalking is a cloudy one with blinks of sunshine ; exactly such as you would choose for fishing. When the sky is cloudless, and the sun very dazzling, the herd are apt to see you at a great distance, and take alarm. High and changing wind is always very bad, as it keeps them moving about in a wild and uneasy state. In such weather it is better, if possible, to wait till it settles a little, and take advantage of the first calm. If the breeze be light, they will not move much, but a strong steady wind lasting for some days will always make the deer change their ground, by facing it often for miles. Mist is the worst of all, as the deer are pretty sure to see you before you see them. Always advance on deer from above, as they are much less apt to look up than down a hill. If possible, have the sun at your back, and in their face. With this advantage you may even venture to approach them from below. (Birds, on the contrary, always look up, and it is best to stalk them from lower ground.) If it is a quiet shot, and the sun is at your back, wait for a clear blink before making your near approach. Of course every one knows, that it is out of the question, under any circumstances, to attempt advancing on deer unless the wind be favourable, so all other directions are subject to this.

In corries and hollows it is quite impossible to know how the wind will blow upon a particular point, unless you have marked every change of wind upon every point of the corrie.

The quick sight of a skilful forester in first discovering deer will appear miraculous to a stranger to the sport, and unless quite bewildered, he cannot fail to admire the generalship which follows. The whole ground is as perfectly known to his guide as his own pleasure-grounds to himself. Every hollow, every knoll, is taken advantage of; every shifting turn of the wind, up the one or round the other, is surely predicted, until, to his own utter amazement, the panting Sassenach or Lowlander is told that he is within fair rifle-distance of a bevy of noble harts.

After deer have been stalked and shot at, they become much wilder ; the best sport at the old harts is therefore obtained at the beginning of the season. They generally keep together, and when their stately mien and branching antlers are seen in the distance, it is enough to inspirit the most apathetic ; but when told to cock his double-barrelled rifle for a shot, I could well excuse a novice for being scarcely able to obey. When there are hinds in the herd they often present themselves between you and the unsuspecting harts ; but even should they be at a distance, great caution is necessary, as, if one hind gets a glimpse of the crouching enemy, the whole herd, stags and all, are sure to scamper away, amidst the bitter execrations of the forester upon its hornless head.

The next best time for a shot at a fine old stag, after they have become wild, is about the beginning of October, when each lot of hinds is sure to contain a good hart. The chances then may often not be so good, but from the stags being dispersed, there are more of them. If deer are feeding forward, it requires very nice calculation, when at a distance, to know the point they will arrive at, by the time you have neared them, especially as a shower of rain or a gust of wind will quicken their motions. But if the stalker is not far from the herd, which is feeding up to his place of concealment, with a favourable wind, he should not grudge waiting ; for, by sending round drivers to windward of the deer, they are often apt to turn and face them. I can't say that driving, under any circumstances, gives half the pleasure that stalking does; for my own part, I would rather kill one stalked hart than several driven. Driving, however, upon a large scale has a most imposing effect, and, although it cannot be otherwise than injurious to a forest, yet the exhilarating nature of the whole proceedings, in which so many friends may join, often makes the proprietor overlook the consternation and panic it creates among the wild and timid herd. Some part of the forest is selected to which the deer are to be driven; a great number of hill-men and shepherds, who thoroughly understand what they are about, are then sent to the furthest extremity to bring all the deer they can collect to this spot; the passes, of course, being well known, are occupied by the sportsmen with their rifles. The drivers sometimes hallooing, and sometimes giving their wind, gradually contract their circle, the deer are huddled together, and finding the only clear ground in the direction of the rifles, slowly and cautiously take their doomed way. There is often great difficulty in driving them, as they are always obliged to go with the wind, which their natural instinct of self-preservation makes them very unwilling to do, and, if they possibly can, they always face it. When the herd come within distance of the rifles, great mischief often ensues ; the nervous and indifferent shot firing into the centre of the living mass, while even the experienced deer-stalker, in singling out the stag-royal, may sometimes wound a couple of hinds beyond him.

So much for driving on grand occasions, which gives the shooter a tolerably snug sinecure until the game comes up to his hand. But when it is practised in a small way, there is no sport which more calls into play his pluck and endurance of fatigue. He first climbs to the ridge of the hill, where he is at once seen by the hawk-eyed driver who has taken his station near the foot, or on the opposite brow, and marked with his glass every herd at feed or rest on the face below. As soon as he has selected one, he attempts to drive it up the hill, towards the sportsman, either by hallooing or showing himself; at the same time giving warning by the manner of his halloo which way they are likely to take. The sportsman must be thoroughly acquainted with all the passes, or have some person with him who is ; and, running from one "snib" to another, in obedience to the signal below, catch sight of the horns of the herd, as, with serpentine ascent, they wind their wary way. From the zigzag manner in which they often come up, it is very difficult to make sure which pass will be the favoured one, and I have been within a few hundred yards of the antlers when the prolonged shout from below has warned me that I had an almost perpendicular shoulder of the hill to breast at my utmost speed before I could hope to obtain the much-desired shot. If the wind is at all high, so determined are the deer to face it, that, unless there are a great number of drivers, one herd after another may take the wrong direction, but, if the day is favourable, with only a light breeze, a knowing driver or two will generally manage to send them up to the rifle. When the deer have selected their pass, should you be within fair distance, with both barrels cocked, beware of making the slightest motion, especially of the head, until you mean to fire. Even when perfectly in view, if you lie flat and don't move, the herd are almost sure to pass. One or two hinds generally take the lead. The fine old harts, if there are any in the herd, often come next, but sometimes, if very fat and lazy, they lag in the rear. When the first few hinds have fairly passed, the rest are sure to follow, until their line is broken, and their motions quickened by a double volley from the rifle.

When stalking last September in Glenartney forest by the kind permission of the noble owner, I had as fine a chance as man could wish spoiled by the scarcely audible whimper of a dog. I was placed in a most advantageous spot, within near distance of the pass. Presently an old hind came picking her stately steps, like a lady of the old school ushering her company to the dining-room. Next her came a careless two year-old hart, looking very anxious to get forward, and perfectly regardless of danger. All was now safe, I felt sure of my shot; when, horror of horrors! a slight whimper was heard. The old hind listened, halted, and then turned short round upon the young hart, who instantly followed her example, and the whole herd ran helter-skelter down the hill. The unfortunate sound proceeded from one of the forester's two colleys, the only dogs Lord Willoughby allows in the forest ; they are kept for the purpose of bringing to bay any deer badly wounded, and are never slipped upon other occasions. The mar-plot above alluded to is an old dog, and very good for the purpose ; he had winded without seeing the deer--hence his mistake.

Glenartney is a beautiful little forest, walled round by fine green hills, but the deer being too numerous for its extent, are rather small. It also stands high, and is not so well sheltered as might be desired, on which account the deer, when the winter storm sets in severely, although fed to the full, cannot remain to eat their food, and are obliged to seek the shelter of the woods for many miles round, far beyond their bounds. At night they wander to the turnip-fields for sustenance, where numbers are shot by poachers, who watch the gates and openings into the fields. One man boasted to me that he had in that manner killed six during one storm, with a common fowling-piece loaded with ball. The turnip-field where he performed this feat was more than twelve miles from the forest.

Perhaps as fine deer as any in the kingdom are those of the Black Mount. The cup [The three top prongs of the horn, growing out together, form a cup. There is no cup at all except in the finest and oldest stags.] on the top of the horns of many, according to Highland phrase, would hold a gill of whisky ; and yet there are heads now preserved in Taymouth Castle which show that their forefathers, though fewer in number, were even greater than they. The Black Mount is twenty-one miles long by twelve broad, and the Marquis of Breadalbane, notwithstanding his numerous engagements in public life, has not neglected this noble appanage of a Highland proprietor. No expense or trouble is spared which can contribute to the winter subsistence of the deer, or protect them from poachers. Patches of different kinds of food are sown in the valleys, and left uncut, to which they flock during the severity of winter. The forest has plenty of green summer food, and abundance of long heather, which affords shelter in cold weather, and is greedily eaten in the snow-storm, when hardly any other food can be reached. I shot the subject of the wood-cut there about the middle of last October, when the forest was in all its glory, and nothing but sounds of rivalry and defiance were heard in every quarter. The head is not by any means the largest size, but may be taken as a fair average specimen. The fallow-deer's head was from life, one of the finest I ever saw.

The day I shot the red-deer was perhaps the most unpropitious for stalking which could possibly have been chosen. In the morning, the mist was rolling lazily along the sides of the mountains, in dense masses, and it was evident there would be rain before the close of the day. It was enough to damp the heart of the most ardent deer-stalker, but I determined (having little time to spare) to abide by the forester's opinion. His answer was, that "we would just do our best; but if we were unsuccessful to-day I must e' en wait for to-morrow." With this determination we started for the forest, followed by an under-keeper, with one of Lord Breadalbane's fine deer-hounds, led in a leash. A slight breeze at first sprung up, and partially cleared away the mist from some of the lower hills. The quick eye of Robertson immediately discovered a deer lying down upon the ridge of one of them. His glass was instantly fixed. "There, Sir, if you could manage that fellow, you would have one of the finest harts in the forest." "Well, suppose we go round by the back of the hill, and come down that hollow, we should be within fair distance from the rock." "If he'll only lie still, and give us time enough." This however the stag had determined not to do, for when we came to the hollow, he had risen from his rocky couch, and was immediately detected by Robertson, quietly taking his breakfast, among his hinds, a considerable way below.

The place was so open all round that it was impossible to get near him, and the mist soon afterwards came on so thick that we only knew that the deer were all round us by their incessant bellowing. The forester looked much disconcerted, for, in addition to the mist, a drizzling rain began to descend. We sat down behind a hillock, and I desired the under-keeper to produce the provision-basket. "If there was only a breeze," says Robertson, "and I do believe it's comin', for the draps o' rain are much heavier." And so it proved, for the mist again partially cleared. We hastened to take advantage of the change, and Robertson, ten yards in advance, mounting every knoll and searching every hollow with an eye that seemed to penetrate the very mist, suddenly threw himself upon the ground, and signalled us to do the same. A roar like that of a bull presently let us know the cause, and on a little amphitheatre about five hundred yards off, his profile in full relief, stood as noble a stag as ever "tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky." There he was, like knight of old, every now and then sounding his trumpet of defiance, and courting the battle and the strife. Nor did he challenge in vain, for while we were admiring his majestic attitude, another champion rushed upon him, and a fierce encounter followed. We could distinctly hear the crashing of their horns, as they alternately drove each other to the extremity of the lists. "I wish the ball was through the heart o' one o' ye !" muttered the under-keeper. His wishes were soon to be realized, for the younger knight, who seemed to have the advantage in courage and activity, at last fairly drove his adversary over the knoll and disappeared after him. Robertson now rushed forward signing to me to follow, and peeping cautiously over the scene of contest, slunk back again, and crawled on hand and knee up a hollow to a hillock immediately beyond: I following his exemple. When we had gained this point, he took another wary survey, and whispered that the hinds were on the other side of the knoll within thirty yards. It was now a nervous time, but I could not help admiring the coolness of the forester. Without the least appearance of flurry, he had both eyes and ears open, and gave his directions with distinctness and precision. "That will do; there goes a hind, the whole will follow. Place your rifle on that stone, you'll get a famous chance about eighty yards." - "He'll come at last," he again whispered, as hind after hind slowly passed in review, when a roar was heard immediately below us. "As sure as I 'm leevin' he's comin' on the very tap o' us. Hold the rifle this way, Sir, and shoot him between the horns the moment his head comes ow'r the knowe." I had scarcely altered my position when head, horns and all appeared in full view. Seeing us in a moment, he was out of sight at a bound, but taking a direction round the base of the hillock, presented his broadside a beautiful cross-shot. I had plenty of time for deliberate aim, and the Red Knight of the Wilds lay low and bleeding.

It was now nearly four o'clock, and the forester had some doubts whether we could get to Inveroran that night, but as I was anxious to start early in the morning, we despatched the follower for a cart, and with great difficulty dragged the stag by the horns down the hill to the road. Notwithstanding the weather, I had been delighted with my expedition, and only regretted having killed the younger and victorious champion instead of his more bulky rival. During our walk to the inn, I had many anecdotes of former bloody deeds in the forest from Robertson, and not a few where the balls had flown scatheless. One, in particular, amused me. The marquis, accompanied by two friends, one of them, I should imagine, more famous for his scientific than sporting qualifications, were stalking some very fine harts. When within rifle-distance, his lordship and one of his friends were crawling over a knoll, in order to select the best of the lot. "What are they about up there?" said the virtuoso. "There are the deer." Bang! bang! Off went the harts in a twinkling, wishing, I have no doubt, that they had always such fair warning when danger was near.

We passed, during the day, several forest-baths, in full use; i, e, moss-holes where the stags plunge up to the neck and roll about to cool themselves, in summer and autumn. When they come out again, black as pitch, they look like the evil genii of the mountain. In former times poachers used to fasten spears with the points upward in these places, and when the stag threw himself into the hole, he was impaled.

Lord Breadalbane has a very fine kennel of dogs, exclusively for bringing the wounded deer to bay. They are for the most part a breed between the foxhound and greyhound, but some are between the deerhound and foxhound. The former are reckoned the best winded. The forester is justly proud of these dogs, mentioning that some of them, when chasing a cold (unwounded) hart with hinds, were so knowing, that, should the hart give them the slip at a burn, and run down it, they would stop their pursuit of the hinds, recover his track, and hold him at bay all night should no one come to their relief. The cunning of the old patriarchs of the forest is also remarkable. Once, when some young dogs were being entered at the two-year-old harts, a stag-royal presented himself, but, seeing he was not the immediate object of pursuit, he witnessed the whole chase from the shelter of a plantation, and, when the foresters returned, they again started him, close to where he was first put up, when he dashed into the thicket of the wood. There was a tame one kept at one of the shooting-lodges which attacked every one but the foresters, and at last was removed to the park at Taymouth. This fellow became so savage and expert with his antlers, that he killed, I have been told, two horses, and no one dared to pass his haunt unless he knew them.

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