“The big one, him between the two hinds to the left.”  I took deadly aim, my heart beating audibly, like a rusty pump in a dry season.  My hands were shaking like aspen leaves, but I got the sight on him, under his shoulder, and pulled the trigger.  Nothing happened, I pulled the trigger of the second barrel.  Nothing occurred.  “Ye have the safety-bolts in,” whispered Hugh, and he accommodated that portion of the machinery, which I do not understand.  Was all this calculated to set a man at his ease?  I took aim afresh, pulled the trigger again.  Nothing!  “Ye’re on half-cock,” whispered Hugh, adding some remark in Gaelic, which, of course, I did not understand.  Was it my fault?  It was not my own rifle, I repeat, and the hammers, at half-cock, looked as high as those of my gun, full-cocked.

All this conversation had aroused the attention of the deer.  Off they scuttled at full speed, and I sent a couple of bullets vaguely after them, in the direction of a small forest of horns which went tossing down a glade.  I don’t think I hit anything, and Hugh, without making any remark, took the rifle and strode off in a new direction.  I was nearly dead with fatigue, I was wishing Mr. Bryce and the British Tourist my share of Access to Mountains, when we reached the crown of a bank above a burn, which commanded a view of an opposite slope.  Hugh wriggled up till his eyes were on a level with the crest, and got his long glass out.  After some interval of time, he wakened me, to say that if I snored like that, I would not get a shot.  Then he showed me, or tried to show me, through the glass, a stag and three hinds, far off to our right.  I did not see them, I very seldom see anything that people point out to me, but I thought it wise to humour him, and professed my satisfaction.  Was I to shoot at them?  No, they were about half a mile off, but, if I waited, they would feed up to us, so we waited, Hugh nudging me at intervals to keep me awake.  Meanwhile I was practising aiming at a distant rock, about the place where I expected to get my shot, as Hugh instructed me.  I thought the wretched rifle was at half-cock, and I aimed away, very conscientiously, for practice.  Presently the rifle went off with a bang, and I saw the dust fly on the stone I had been practising at.  It had not been at half-cock, after all; warned by my earlier misfortunes, Hugh had handed the rifle to me cocked.  The stag and the hinds were in wild retreat at a considerable distance.  I had some difficulty in explaining to Hugh, how this accident had occurred, nor did he seem to share my satisfaction in having hit the stone, at all events.