back--and yet he gazed and gazed with a strange fascination. The stags,
which were not more than fifty or sixty yards off, were quite
unconscious of any danger; they were quietly feeding; sometimes one of
them would cease and raise his head and look lazily around. Just at this
moment, too, a pale sunlight began to shine over the plateau on which
they stood; and a very pretty picture it lit up--the silver-gray rocks,
the wide heath, and those slim and elegant creatures grouped here and
there as chance directed. Every single feature of the scene (as he
discovered long thereafter) was burned into Lionel's brain; yet he was
not aware of it at the time; his whole attention, as he imagined, was
directed towards keeping himself cool and restrained and ready to obey
Roderick's mute directions. The rifle was stealthily given to him, and
as stealthily pushed through the grass. With his fore-finger the keeper
indicated the stag at which Lionel was to fire; it was rather lighter in
color than the others, and was standing a little way apart. Lionel took
time to consider, as he thought; in reality it was to still the quick
pulsation of his heart; and as he did so the stag, unfortunately for
him, moved, so that, instead of offering him an easy broadside shot, it
almost faced him, with its head down. Still, at any moment it might
afford a fairer mark; and so, with the utmost caution, and with his lips
still shut tight, he slowly raised himself somewhat, and got the rifle
into his hands. Yes, the stag had again moved; its shoulder was exposed;
his eyes inquired of Roderick if now was the time; and the keeper nodded
assent.

The awful crisis had arrived; and he seemed to blind himself and deaden
himself to all things in this mortal world except the little notch in
the rifle, the shining sight, and that fawn-colored object over there.
He took a long breath; he steadied and steadied the slightly trembling
barrel until it appeared perfectly motionless; and then--he fired!

Alas! at the very moment that he pulled the trigger--when it was too
late for him to change his purpose--the stag threw up its head to flick
at its side with its horns, and thus quite altered its position; he knew
he ought not to fire--but it was too late--too late--and in the very act
of pulling the trigger he felt that he had missed.

Roderick sprang to his feet; for the deer, notwithstanding that they
could not have discerned where the danger lay, with one consent bo