<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81"></SPAN>[81]</span></p>
<div class="figcenter illowp93" id="ich6" style="max-width: 46.875em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100" src="images/i_ch6.jpg" alt="" />
<div class="caption"><p class="pfs80">ON THE TOPS</p>
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<h2 class="nobreak" id="VI">VI<br/> A STALKER’S PERIL</h2>
<p><span class="smcap">The</span> accident to the head stalker which I mentioned
in the preceding article shows that stalking,
like almost every other sport, has its dangers, and
every one acquainted with the pursuit of deer
knows the necessity of exercising great care in
approaching them after they have been shot.</p>
<p>A serious accident is, however, very rare, but
sometimes even the most experienced stalkers, as
in the instance referred to above, incur risks
which they ought not to take.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_82"></SPAN>[82]</span></p>
<p>Far more serious than the accident which I
have described was one which occurred several
years ago, recorded by a former neighbour of
mine in the north, the owner of a well-known
deer forest. I give the story in his own words,
as well as I can remember. “It was late one day
in the forest of Fannich, where I was stalking as
the guest of one of my relatives who was at that
time a tenant of the forest. After a long and
difficult stalk, I had succeeded in getting up to
the stag and shot it. The stalker, Duncan, an
excellent man of long experience, approached the
animal to give it the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coup de grâce</i>, and, with his
open knife in his right hand, seized one of the
stag’s forelegs with his left. Instantly the stag
gave a tremendous plunge and threw Duncan
back. The knife went into Duncan’s thigh, and
he bled profusely. Both of us made frantic
efforts to stop the bleeding, but without avail.
The gillie, who was behind, came up, and we did
all we could, but having no medical training, or
even a knowledge of first aid, were unable to
render useful assistance. Duncan got weaker
and fainter, and was apparently bleeding to death.
He was, however, perfectly cool and collected,
said there was no one to blame but himself,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_83"></SPAN>[83]</span>
that he was awfully careless, and ought never to
have taken hold of the stag in the way he did.</p>
<p><SPAN name="FANNICH" id="FANNICH"></SPAN></p>
<div class="figcenter illowp100" id="i082fp" style="max-width: 62.5em;">
<ANTIMG class="w100 p2" src="images/i_082_fp.jpg" alt="" />
<div class="caption"><p class="pfs80">IN THE FOREST OF FANNICH.</p>
<p class="pfs80">By <span class="smcap">Finlay Mackinnon</span>.</p>
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</div>
<p>“He appeared to be rapidly getting weaker,
and said quite quietly that he thought he was
dying, and asked me to take some messages for
him to his wife and children, and then seemed
to be losing consciousness. It was getting dusk,
and the gillie urged me not to wait any longer, as
I could do no good, and unless I started for the
lodge at once I should not be able to find my way.
So with a heavy heart I said good-bye to poor
Duncan and started homewards. From time to
time I turned to look back at the two men, and
at last, when I reached the top of the last hill I
had to cross before losing sight of them, I turned
to take one final glance. When I looked round,
however, I was startled to see, close to the place
where Duncan had been lying, the figures of
two men walking slowly. There was no mistake
about it—they were Duncan and the gillie. I
ran back again, and found that soon after I left
them the bleeding had stopped quite unaccountably,
and Duncan, though still very weak, had
gradually revived and finally insisted on trying
to walk. We persuaded him to rest, and, leaving
the gillie beside him, I went back to the lodge as<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_84"></SPAN>[84]</span>
quickly as I could and sent up a pony. Duncan
got safely home, and when the doctor saw him
he said it was a marvellous escape, for if the knife
had gone into Duncan’s thigh two inches from
the spot where it entered, nothing could have
saved his life.”</p>
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