But
by and by he was to have his reward. Roderick was making for a certain
cluster of rocks; and when these were reached, Lionel found, to his
inexpressible joy, not only that he was allowed to stand upright, but
that the stalk had been accomplished. By peering over one of the
boulders, he could see both stags quietly feeding at something like
seventy yards' distance. It was going to be an easy shot in every way;
himself in ample concealment; a rock on which to rest his rifle; the
deer without thought of danger. He would take his time and calm down his
nerves.
"Which one?" he whispered to Roderick.
"The one with the one horn is a fine beast," the keeper whispered in
return; "and the other one, his head is worth nothing at all."
With extremest caution Lionel put the muzzle over the ledge of the rock,
and pushed it quietly forward. He made sure of his footing. He got hold
of the barrel with his left hand, and of the stock with his right; he
fixed the rifle firmly against his shoulder, and took slow and steady
aim. He was not so nervous this time; indeed, everything was in his
favor: the stag standing broadside on and hardly moving, and this rock
offering so convenient a rest.
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