I had gone about half a mile down the path when a sudden thrashing noise, accompanied by the sound of harsh choked breathing, brought me to a fearful standstill. The noise was directly in my way, I could not go ahead without approaching it. I forced my limbs to carry me off the path, into the wood. As soon as I left the path and halted in the shade of the wood, if shadow it could be called which was but more intensely dark, everything fell silent again; I could hear the river but no other sound. I brought the rifle from my shoulder to assure myself with shaking hands that it was ready. I waited what seemed a great length of time before I ventured to move, keeping within the wood, off the path. When I had travelled twenty steps the noise broke out once more with renewed force; I was near enough to the edge of the wood to see the narrow strip of sky between the trees on both sides of the river. I saw a monstrous form uprear itself against the lesser darkness of the sky; it rose to the height of the trees, a few yards from me, and fell, and rose again. The choking sound repeated itself more loudly. I was shaking so that I could scarcely keep my fingers on the safety catch and the trigger of my rifle. I levelled the rifle at the patch of blank darkness from which the shape had risen as I waited. I began to hear a low sobbing noise, like the drawing in of difficult breath, that the water’s voice had drowned until this moment. I trailed my feet closer to the thing, with infinite caution, ready to retreat. My eyes caught a glimpse of a tree-top which seemed to bend and shake, moving alone amongst its motionless fellows. As I stared at the bending plumes of that tree the Thing leapt up again, and I saw horns outlined against the vague sky. I turned back the safety catch of my rifle, and commenced to laugh. I could hear the hysterical note of my laughter. I scolded myself aloud saying, ‘Shut up! shut up! shut up!’ And then, ‘Frightened to death by a stag in a snare!’

I was near enough, now that I knew what I was looking for, to make out the shape of the stag that hung suspended by its head, or horns, from a young tree beside the path. I ventured closer. Immediately the brute began to plunge and rear. Flying hooves missed my face by an inch. I felt the wind of the fore-feet as they lashed out; the skin of my neck was prickling and my spine felt cold. Those sharp hooves would have cut my face to ribbons if I had been a step nearer. The horrible shuddering of the poor creature’s breath started again.