head, she pointed up-river. Crawling to my knees, I looked
in the direction she indicated, to see a buck standing upon
a little knoll some two hundred yards from us. There was
good cover between the animal and me, and so, though I might
have hit him at two hundred yards, I preferred to crawl
closer to him and make sure of the meat we both so craved.
I had covered about fifty yards of the distance, and the
beast was still feeding peacefully, so I thought that I
would make even surer of a hit by going ahead another fifty
yards, when the animal suddenly raised his head and looked
away, up-river. His whole attitude proclaimed that he was
startled by something beyond him that I could not see.
Realizing that he might break and run and that I should then
probably miss him entirely, I raised my rifle to my
shoulder. But even as I did so the animal leaped into the
air, and simultaneously there was a sound of a shot from
beyond the knoll.
For an instant I was dumbfounded. Had the report come from
down-river, I should have instantly thought that one of my
own men had fired. But coming from up-river it puzzled me
considerably. Who could there be with firearms in primitive
England other than we of the Coldwater?
Victory was directly behind me, and I motioned for her to
lie down, as I did, behind the bush from which I had been
upon the point of firing at the antelope. We could see that
the buck was quite dead, and from our hiding place we waited
to discover the identity of his slayer when the latter
should approach and claim his kill.
We had not long to wait, and when I saw the head and
shoulders of a man appear above the crest of the knoll, I
sprang to my feet, with a heartfelt cry of joy, for it was
Delcarte.
At the sound of my voice, Delcarte half raised his rifle in
readiness for the attack of an enemy, but a moment later he
recognized me, and was coming rapidly to meet us. Behind
him was Snider. They both were astounded to see me upon the
north bank of the river, and much more so at the sight of my
companion.