the wind.

Edward started up on his legs with a shout of exultation. Jacob
commenced reloading his gun, and stopped Edward as he was about to run
up to where the animal lay.

"Edward, you must learn your craft," said Jacob; "never do that again;
never shout in that way--on the contrary, you should have remained still
in the fern."

"Why so? The stag is dead."

"Yes, my dear boy, that stag is dead; but how do you know but what there
may be another lying down in the fern close to us, or at some distance
from us, which you have alarmed by your shout? Suppose that we both had
had guns, and that the report of mine had started another stag lying in
the fern within shot, you would have been able to shoot it; or if a stag
was lying at a distance, the report of the gun might have startled him
so as to induce him to move his head without rising. I should have seen
his antlers move and have marked his lair, and we should then have gone
after him and stalked him too."

"I see," replied Edward, "I was wrong; but I shall know better another
time."

"That's why I tell you, my boy," replied Jacob; "now let us go to our
quarry. Ay, Edward, this is a noble beast. I thought that he was a
hart royal, and so he is."

"What is a hart royal, Jacob?"

"Why, a stag is called a brocket until he is three years old; at four
years he is a staggart; at five years a warrantable stag; and after five
years he becomes a hart royal."

"And how do you know his age?"

"By his antlers: you see that this stag has nine antlers; now, a brocket
has but two antlers, a staggart three, and a warrantable stag but four;
at six years old, the antlers increase in number until they sometimes
have twenty or thirty. This is a fine beast, and the venison is now
getting very good. Now you must see me do the work of my craft."

Jacob then cut the throat of the animal, and afterwards cut off its
head, and took out its bowels.

"Are you tired, Edward?" said Jacob, as he wiped his hunting-knife on
the coat of the stag.

"No, not the least."

"Well, then, we are now, I should think, about four or five miles from
the cottage. Could you find your way home? But that is of no
consequence, Smoker will lead you home by the shortest path. I will
stay here, and you can saddle White Billy and come back with him, for he
must carry the venison back. It's more than we can manage--indeed, as
much as we can manage with White Billy to help us. There's more tha