"'Bosch patrol half-left!' whispers I.
"'Stow it, you blighter,' says Ratty. 'This is serious. Can't you see th' stag?'
"I peeps round and, loomin' in the da-arkness, see th' hindquarters of a stag sticking out ayant a tree. It looked bigger 'n Ah 've seen 'em in pictures, but Ah 've noticed Fritzes look bigger in th' dark.
"'Now's your chance, la-ad,' I whispers. 'Trip round an' slip th' noose over 'is horns.'
"'Not me,' growls Batty. 'T'other end's safer.'
"He crawls up to it wi' th' rope all ready, but just as he was going to slip it over its leg it seemed to stand on its head, feint wi' its left an' get an upper-cut wi' its right under Ratty's chin. A shadow passed across th' fa-ace o' the moon, which I judged to be Ratty.
"'Ratty's after altitude records,' says I to meself, 'an' there'll be th' ellanall of a row if that rope's lost.'
"However, in a few minutes he started to descend an' made a good landing in some soft bracken. By th' time I'd felt him all over, an' found 'e'd be fit to go to hospital in th' morning, th' stag had disappeared."
"I never heard of stags kicking like that before," I interrupted.
"Nor hadn't Ratty," said the ancient warrior. "Ah towd you he made a mistake in Nacheral 'Istory.