s, although feeling
that by so doing his chances were greatly diminished.

When Jackman fired his shot, MacRummle's ears refused to convey the
information to his brain. He still sat there, turning his head slowly
to and fro, and feeling rather sleepy. One of the scattered deer, which
had gone higher up the mountain, passed him by the upper track.
MacRummle was gazing at the lower track just then! Having given the
allotted time to it, he turned languidly and beheld the hind, trotting
rather slowly, for it was somewhat winded.

The sight sent sportsman-fire through the old gentleman's entire frame.
He sprang, he almost tumbled up, but before he could fire, a jealous
boulder intervened. Rushing up a few yards, he was just in time to see
the animal bound over a cliff and disappear.

Depressed beyond measure, he returned to his post and resumed the rapid
head-motion which he had foolishly discontinued. This was fortunate,
for it enabled him to see in time the stag and hind which Jackman had
sent bounding towards him. Another moment, and the affrighted creatures
were within range. MacRummle sprang up, put the repeater to his
shoulder, and then commenced a fusillade that baffles description.
Bang, bang, bang, went the repeater; bang, bang, double-bang, and
banging everywhere went the startled echoes of the mountain. Never
since it sprang from the volcanic forces of nature had the Eagle Cliff
sent forth such a spout of rattling reverberation. The old man took no
aim whatever. He merely went through the operations of load and fire
with amazing rapidity. Each crack delivered into the arms of echo was
multiplied a hundredfold. Showers of bullets seemed to hail around the
astounded quarry. Smoke, as of a battle, enshrouded the sportsman. The
rifle became almost too hot to hold, and when at last it ceased to
respond to the drain upon its bankrupt magazine, the stag and hind lay
dead upon the track, and MacRummle lay exhausted with excitement and
exertion upon the heather!

This unwonted fusillade took the various parties higher up the hill by
surprise. To Ivor, indeed, it was quite a new experience, and he
regarded it with a smile of grim contempt.

"There iss noise enough--what-e-ver!" remarked Skipper McPherson, who
sat beside the keeper with a double-barrelled gun charged with buckshot,
which he had in readiness.

"Look! look!" exclaimed Ivor, pointing to another part of the pass,
"your friend McGregor has g