But he took it all as part
of the day's work. There was in his possession a little silver token
that afforded him much content. He would acquit himself like a man--if
he could; at any rate, he would not grumble.
After what seemed ages of this inconceivable torture, Lionel was
immensely relieved to find the keeper, after a careful survey from the
top of a mound to which he had crawled, motion with his hand to him to
come up to his side. This he did with the greatest circumspection,
scarcely raising his head above the grass and heather; and then, when he
had joined Roderick, he began to peer through the waving stalks and
twigs just before his eyes. Suddenly his gaze was arrested by certain
brown tips--tips that were moving; were these the stags' horns, he asked
himself, in a kind of bewilderment of fear? There could be no doubt of
it. The beasts were now lying down--he could not see their bodies--but
clearly enough he could make out their branching antlers, as they lazily
moved their heads, or perhaps turned to flick a fly away.
"They're too far off, aren't they?" Lionel whispered--and, despite all
his sworn resolves to keep calm, he felt his heart going as if it would
choke him.
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