We had almost gained the bottom of the hill, with but two short miles
to dinner and a tub, when weird shrieks and whistles were exchanged
between our people and an excited villager below. The shikari, his eyes
gleaming with uncontrollable excitement, announced that the "big stag" was
waiting for me at that very moment!--and therewith Ahmed Bot dashed off
down the hill, leaving me to follow as best I might. Leaving my wife in
charge of the tiffin coolie, I tumbled off after the shikari, whom I found
gloating with the messenger over the inspiriting particulars of the
monarch of the glen, which, I understood, crouched expectant some paltry
2000 feet above us, near the top of the nullah!
It was past six o'clock, and the light already showing signs of waning, so
we lost no time in attacking the hill again. I was pretty well "done," and
had to accept a tow from the shikari, and hand in hand we pressed up that
accursed hill until, at seven o'clock, the sun set and it began to grow
dusk. Lying down near the edge of the snow, to gain breath and let the
shikari crawl round and "look" the face of the hill, I was soon moved to
activity by the news that the stag was lying under a pine tree within a
few hundred yards. A short "crawl" brought me within sight of the beast,
who lay half-hidden by a rock. It was now so dark that even with my
glasses I could only make sure that it was a "horn beast" and not a hind;
there was no time to lose, so, putting up my sight for 150 yards, I let
him have it, and was nearly as much surprised as gratified to see him roll
out on the snow to the shot.
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