by a precipice. Donald at last found a place where we could just climb round a rock overhanging a cliff, but having come back on his tracks to tell me, he could not retrace his steps so as to hit off the right place again, with the result that we wandered up and down amongst the timber and rocks looking for it, and were on the point of giving up the search when I chanced to find it. By the aid of some projecting branches we got round a nasty bit of slippery rock, and down into the bed of the creek. Jumping from boulder to boulder, sometimes wading, often having to cross and reoross the creek to avoid big rocks, and occasionally compelled to leave the stream and climb up a steep bank in the bush to avoid a precipice, we reached our goal at four o'clock after ten hours' wandering. There before us lay a beautiful mile of clear water, sheltered by bush down to its very edge on the south, with high rocks and a lovely cascade falling sheer into the water on the north, and at both ends several acres of long, sweet grass. We saw one large stag at the top end of the lake, and made him out to be a royal as he walked along the edge of the water browsing on small bushes. He had no hinds, but we could see that he was roaring, although we could not hear him. We then viewed a stag with four hinds on our side of the lake, walking away from us towards the head of the lake. Those we followed up, and while I was going through some high birch

I heard the stag roar just outside the wood in front of me. Creeping along slowly, I presently saw two hinds lying down, and the top of the stag's head just visible above the grass. I got within a hundred yards, and then, conscious that the hinds had seen me, I sat still and waited for the stag to get up and show his body. I could see that he was a strong tenpointer, and felt sure of getting him so soon as he rose. The hinds soon seemed satisfied, and after a while got up and began feeding. Last of all the stag stood up, and I noticed that he was very light-coloured and grey. grey. When he dropped to the shot I gave behind the shoulder I found that he had a very strong horn, and that his teeth were gone, or mere rotten stumps. Donald cut off the head, and having collected some firewood, with a good fire in front and a rock which kept off the cold wind behind us, we spent a very fair night. I had dropped my cap in the thick bush in the morning, and had managed to make a capital nightcap out of the rück-sack, which was in reality nothing but a towel stitched up into the form of a rück-sack. Next morning we were up and off by daylight, and it took us eleven hours' hard work to get home. Having been struggling most of the time through low, scrubby bush, we were by no means sorry to find that our cook had got a good supper ready for us. The horns were 40 inches long, the girth between the brow and bay tines

was 8 inches, and between bay and tray antlers 6 inches, up to that time the record in girth for Otago.

On our return journey I carried down the rifle and rück-sack, and Donald carried the head, a pretty good performance on his part, as to carry a stag's head through low, thick bush is most trying. It is impossible to carry the head over one's shoulders, with the deer's skull resting on the back of the bearer's neck, and the horns facing forward on each side of his head, in the usual way, because the horns are apt to catch perpetually in every twig and creeper. Moreover, on very steep ground the hands must be free to hold a stick. We had often to crawl under low scrub, while the heat of the blazing sun in a breathless sky was almost overpowering. Donald never even murmured, though in a later trip another guide in a much easier valley refused to try and carry a head out, declaring it impossible. I took it myself to show him his mistake, and carried both it and the rifle, while he walked sulkily behind empty-handed, thoroughly disgusted, and we will hope as thoroughly ashamed of himself.

There was one occasion, in 1903, which neither Donald nor I shall ever be likely to forget. We had spent a fruitless day in trying to get to some deer that we had spied in the morning up one of the side valleys by following the main ridge between that valley and the next. The going was so rocky and precipitous that

after five hours' hard climbing we had to give it up and make our way down to the stream which was running far below us, there to camp out for the night. It was very late, so I went ahead of Donald to try and find the best way down, as he could not move at any pace on the steep hill-side, having lost his stick, which had fallen over precipice in the morning. I thought that by keeping down keeping down a small narrow ridge, with steep rocks on each side, I could get to the stream safely enough, but when within two hundred yards of it we were suddenly checked by a precipice. It was getting dark, and too late to think of turning back and coming down another ridge. The mountain-side we were on stood at an angle perilously near 45° to the plain below, and it would have been quite impossible to lie down without rolling over the precipice, so the only mode of exit or descent that seemed possible lay in crawling along the side cliff, on which were some little tufts of grass and protruding cracks or ledges. My idea was that by groping along with my hands and feet for some ten yards, I could get to a small dry water-course leading down to the next ridge, and so on to the stream. trouble in scaling the cliff, but once there, was getting along fairly well with my face to the cliff, feeling my way slowly along it, when suddenly both feet gave way, and I found myself dangling against the side of the precipice, hanging on

I had great

to tussocks of grass, and knowing that if anything gave way I was a gone coon. I had my stick, and never thought of letting it drop, though it was hampering me considerably, while I kept cautiously searching the face of the rock with my toes in quest of a foothold. Presently I touched a little ledge, and was able to put some weight on that toe, and so steady myself. With the other foot I then found another little protruding spot, and having got that foot firmly planted, was enabled to move along and get safely over the face of the cliff. It was an anxious time, and when I climbed down about twenty yards to the bottom of the cliff, and looked up to where I had crossed it, it looked simply awful. Then Donald, who had been a long way behind, came to the precipice, and I showed him the only possible way of getting down. I will own that I felt not a little anxious for the worthy fellow's safety, seeing he weighed fourteen stone and had my rifle, which was likely to hinder him, on his back. However, from below I was able to tell him where to put his feet, with the result that he got over safely, and climbed down to me. We reached the stream just as it was getting dark. We hurriedly collected all the sticks we could lay hands onthere was no good firewood, for we were too high up for timber, the moon, which was rising behind the hills, helping us; but although we got a fair supply of dead brushwood, we

"That was an awful place! I would not do that again for ten thousand pounds! If you had not done it first, I would never have thought of trying it."

"Anyhow, it's all right now," I said, "and all's well that ends well."

"If ever you come out again," said Donald, "you must get some one else as guide, for I canna stand things o' that sort."

When the full moon came over the mountain top-it was a beautifully bright night-all the huge rooks and peaks and precipices round us were lit up, and the deep shadows made them look more formidable and grander than ever. The rushing water fell over some rocks close by, and as at one and the same moment we listened to the booming of the waterfall below us and the roaring of a stag up the bed of the stream a little way above, it was impossible not to be impressed by the natural grandeur of our surroundings. These doubtless might have been appreciated better if we had only had a little venison to cook for supper and a cup of hot tea. But an empty stomach, a sharp frost with no blankets, and the prospects of no breakfast, with a whole day's tramp home before we could expect to get a bite of

anything, are material considerations apt to detract from the pleasure of bushing it on the loveliest evening imaginable. I kept constantly looking at my watch, and calculating how long it would be before daylight. It came at last, and soon after 6 A.M. we were up and away. A comparatively easy walk brought us down to camp by two o'clock. A cup or two of hot tea, with some bread and butter, soon put us right, and ready for a more solid meal at 5.30 P.M. This was one of my many failures, but the sportsman's occasional failures only make his successes much more enjoyable when they come.

One particular stag cost me three hard days' climbing before I got him. It was in 1907, when I made my fourth trip to the Hunter. I had spent the beginning of the season exploring a lovely country for deer, but they had not spread so far yet, and my partner, whom I had taken out that year and had sent to what I thought the best camp in a valley called "Boundary Valley," was not able to do the walking. When after three weeks he settled to give up the job, having had enough of it, I went straight to his camp. As it happened, I had told him of a high plateau of grass which he could reach and return from in a day, where there was sure to be a good head. Finding that he had not been there at all, I started quickly for the place, and saw a fine big stag; but the light was bad, and it came on to rain in torrents. The

stag with his hinds retired to shelter in the bush, and I had to return without getting a shot, getting back to camp at eight o'clock, wet to the skin.

The next day I tried again, but the deer had not come out of the bush at all, as it was still raining, and blowing a hurricane. It continued to rain and snow alternately for a week on end, and I could not get on to the hills at all, as they were covered in cloud. Then at last, on April 27, came a fine bright morning, but the snow was deep on the hills, and having to go over a very high ridge to get down into the basin where the stag I wanted was likely to be, I thought it useless to try for him, On the following day, however, knowing that the big stags were just about to leave their hinds and retire for the season into the bush, I decided to make one more attempt. David, my guide, and I accordingly started at 6.30, taking the rüok-saok and provision for sleeping out, and toiled slowly up through deep snow on the north side of the ridge, seeing nothing till we got to the top of the shoulder over which our road lay. As in places it was very slippery, David elected to take me over a narrow ridge where there was just room to walk, with deep rocks on each side. Though I had orossed the same ridge gaily enough at the first time of asking, on this occasion I had to sit down and soramble across like a crab, and I could not help remarking to David, "When it comes to this, I think it is time I stopped deer-stalk

ing." There was much less snow on the south side. We got over the shoulder to hear almost immediately a roar and to spy an old stag with some hinds on the snow far below, just above the bush. It had taken us four and a-half hours from camp to reach the shoulder. The wind was very bad, blowing straight down from us to the deer, but they were too far off to get our wind yet. I thought it would be no use trying to stalk the stag from above, and we could not get below the deer without showing ourselves across a wide open space. How ever, we managed to cross below them, down a little gully of sorub with snow a foot deep, and although one hind saw us, the herd did not decamp. By climbing up a watercourse I got through the scrub between the deer and the high bush, and leaving David behind, stalked them from below. Although I heard the stag roar, I could no longer see him, and as several hinds were feeding within sight I dared not show my head much. I orept along in the deep snow, through the scrub, and raising my head over a tiny ridge saw the stag facing me, staring straight at me with his head and half his neck visible. Resting the rifle on my stick, I aimed at his neck, and he fell dead to my shot. He proved to be a very big stag, with a strong horn, although rather short, only 37 inches in length: he was a 14pointer, with big, thick tops. The hinds, wholly undismayed by the sudden death of their lord and master, stood quite

still for some time, and only strolled slowly off as we walked up. We had three hours' daylight to get home. By going straight down through the bush we hit upon the deer track

the bottom, and reached our camp before seven o'clock. I had twice before got good heads at this particular spot, but the heads vary very much according to the season. If the previous

winter has been fairly open, and has been followed by an early spring, naturally the horns are better than after a very severe winter and late spring. No one has been able to weigh deer at their best (ie., just before the rutting season has begun), for the obvious reason that the stalking season does not commence till the middle of the rutting, but I am inclined to think that an average stag weighs 30 stone clean, or perhaps rather more. I weighed one on April 10th, which had been rutting three weeks, so had run down considerably in condition, and he weighed 370 lb. clean.

When I first went into the Hunter Valley I never more than three or four grown hinds with a stag, but the last time I went I saw several herds of twenty-five to thirty. No doubt some deer get killed by falling over precipices, and I have twice found dead deer at the bottom of rocks. I knew of a herd of one stag and six hinds and calves which went over a rook, and I think were all killed. I had seen a stag and some hinds on a grassy slope facing the Hunter river, about