bright green of the expanse of meadow between.
They had gained the wooden road-bridge, beneath which the sluggish water
ran oily between the black piers, and here the Canon paused.

"It will be a great thing if we can bring Hilary back to his uncle, so
that they are thoroughly reconciled. But Percy, my boy--remember that
so far, for all these years past you have been the first and only one
near him. How will you feel when you see another first--and to all
appearances of more consequence than yourself, as is natural in the case
of one who has long been away. Are you sure of yourself?"

But the young man burst into a free, frank and hearty laugh.

"Great Scot, Canon!" he cried merrily. "What sort of a bounder are you
trying to take me for? There's nothing I'd like so much as to see the
dear old chap back again."

The old priest gazed steadily at him for a moment, and felt greatly
relieved. The answer rang so spontaneous, so true.

"Well, I had that to say to you, and have said it. In fact I brought
you with me now on purpose to say it. Now, good-bye my boy, and God
bless you."

CHAPTER THREE.

BAYFIELD'S FARM.

There is a rustling in the cover, faint at first, but drawing nearer.
As it does so, the man with the gun, who has been squatting half
concealed by a shrub in one corner of the little glade, picks himself up
stealthily, noiselessly, and now widely on the alert. A fine bushbuck
ram leaps lightly into the open, and as its large protruding eye lights
on this unusual object, its easy, graceful bound becomes a wild rush.
Then the gun speaks. The beautiful animal sinks in his stride and
falls, a frantic, kicking heap, carried forward some six or eight yards
by the impetus of his pace. Twirling, twisting, now attempting to rise,
and almost succeeding, then rolling back, but still fighting desperately
for life--the blood welling forth over his black hide where the deadly
_loepers_ have penetrated--the stricken buck emits loud raucous
bellowings of rage and fear and agony. But the man with the gun knows
better than to approach too near, knows well the power of those long,
needle-pointed horns, and the tenacity of life contained within the
brain beneath them; knows well that a stricken bushbuck ram, with all
that life still in him, can become a terribly dangerous and formidable
antagonist, and this is a very large and powerful unit of the species.

The crash of the shot reverberates, roaring from th