"Why can't we go after the one that might do?"
"We'll require to go round a bittee and come doon on them."
To "go round a bittee" you find to your cost means to go right back to the bottom of the hill whence you came, to tramp miles round the base of the mountain, and finally to climb up over the top so as to come down on the deer. On the way you come across some small staggies which decline to move, being quite well aware that they are not worth shooting. Fearing they will spoil all your sport by moving the other deer, Sandy lies still and taps two stones together to frighten them a little, but they still refuse to go away and only stare stupidly at you.
"Ye'll jist wave yer hwhite mop," whispers Sandy.
You wonder what he means, as you do not generally carry mops about the hills. Then Sandy, seeing your bewilderment, makes a gesture with his hands over his face in the most solemn manner, and you are reminded of the children's game:—
"I wipe my face with a very good grace,
Without either laughing or smiling."
and produce your white pocket-handkerchief—which certainly, there is no denying, has been used as a mop pretty often on the way up—and waving it at the deer, have the satisfaction of seeing them trot away in a direction where they will do no harm.
After that Sandy says nothing more, but goes trudging on ahead till he stops to take the rifle out of its case and load it. Then he begins to crawl very slowly and cautiously, taking care not to scrape the heather, or knock the stones, and you do exactly the same till you join him behind a big boulder; when he puts the rifle in your hand, saying in a whisper,—
"Noo then, ye'll tak yon beast that's feeding to the west."