ocked.

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.

We began a difficult march homewards, we were about thirteen miles
now from Cauldkail Castle. HUGH still, from habit, would sit down and
take a view through that glass of his. At last he shut it up, like
WELLINGTON at Waterloo, and said, "Maybe ye'll be having a chance yet,
Sir." He then began crawling up a slope of heather, I following, like
the Prophet's donkey. He reached the top, whence he signalled that
there was a shot, and passed the rifle to me, cocked this time. I took
it, put my hand down in the heather--felt something cold and slimy,
then something astonishingly sharp and painful, and jumped to my feet