After going some distance along the path I suddenly heard what I thought was the sound of shouting a long way off. I stopped and shouted more loudly than ever, and then heard the shouts coming nearer, and very soon after Sandy and the gillie appeared. It turned out that what I had supposed had happened, and that they had crossed the burn thinking that I was still in front of them. I have never since then, on my return from stalking, walked in front of the stalker along a path which I do not know. This unpleasant incident made us later than ever, and I did not get back to the lodge until nearly 10 P.M. The following season I was again stalking in the same forest, and on my first day was on the same beat where I had had the misfortune to wound the stag, as described above, and the same stalker was once more with me. I asked him whether he had heard anything of the wounded stag, and he replied, “Nothing whatever,” adding that although he was sure that the near hind leg was broken, he could not be sure in the darkness at what part exactly, but he thought it was low down. We began by spying a corrie, which was about three miles from the place where I had wounded the stag in the previous season, and presently found five shootable stags which were together. After watching them for a time, Sandy said, “There are two much bigger than the others--one a dark beast; he’s a good stag, with only one horn.” “All right!” I said. “Let’s shoot him; he’ll be interesting anyhow.” We then stalked the stags and managed to get within about 120 yards of them. As soon as I got a good view of the beasts I noticed that the stag with one horn was limping slightly, and it flashed through my mind that he was almost certainly the stag which I had wounded in the previous season, particularly as he was the same colour and the horn seemed to me to be very similar to what I recollected of the horns of the wounded stag. Whilst these thoughts were rapidly passing through my mind, Sandy whispered, “Don’t take the stag with one horn, sir, but the yellow stag on the right which is a much better beast.” [Illustration: EVENING GLOW, POOLEWE, ROSS-SHIRE. By FINLAY MACKINNON.] I replied by shooting the dark-coloured stag--this time in the right place. “You’ve shot the wrong beast!” said Sandy. I said, “Oh, no I haven’t. You were with me last time I fired my rifle, and I then fired it at that very stag; let us have a look at him and see if I’m not right.”