Roderick sprang to his feet; for the deer, notwithstanding that they
could not have discerned where the danger lay, with one consent bounded
forward and made for a rocky defile on the farther side of the plateau.
"Come on, sir! Come on, sir!" the keeper called to Lionel. "You've hit
him. Come along, sir!"
"I haven't hit him--I missed--missed clean!" was the hopeless answer.
"I tell ye ye've hit him!" the keeper exclaimed. "Run, sir, run!--if
he's only wounded he may need the other barrel. God bless me, did ye not
hear the thud when the ball struck?"
Thus admonished Lionel unwittingly, but nevertheless as quickly as he
could, followed the keeper; and he could show a nimble pair of heels
when he chose, even when he was hampered with this heavy rifle. Not that
he had any heart in the chase. The stag had swerved aside just as he
fired; he knew he must have missed. At the same time any one who goes
out with a professional stalker must be content to become as clay in the
hands of the potter; so Lionel did as he was bid; and though he could
not overtake Roderick, he was not far behind him when they both reached
the pass down which the deer had fled.
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