ne!"

The black-faced man, having gained maybe a dozen yards by his
manoeuvre, was now heading for the Citadel gate; beside which--so far
away that we saw them as toys--stood a sentry-box and the figure of a
sentry beside it. Could he reach this gate? His altered course had
taken him a little downhill, to the left of the ridge, and to regain
it by the Citadel he must fetch a slight loop. Luckily the bull
could not reason: he followed his enemy. But there was just a chance
that by running along the ridge the chase might be headed off.
The crowd saw this and set off anew, with Master Archibald still a
little in front and increasing his lead. I scrambled from under the
seat and followed.

But almost at once it became plain that we were out-distanced.
Alone of us Master Archibald had a chance; and if the man were to be
saved, it lay either with him or with the sentry at the gate.

I can yet remember the look on the sentry's face as we drew closer
and his features grew distinct. He stood in the middle of the short
roadway which led to the drawbridge, and clearly it had within a few
moments dawned upon him that _he_ was the point upon which these
fatal forces were converging. A low wall fenced him on either hand,
and as he braced himself, grasping his Brown Bess--a fine picture of
Duty triumphing over Irresolution--into this narrow passage poured
the chase, rolled as it were in a flying heap; the hunted man just
perceptibly first, the bull and Archibald Plinlimmon cannoning
against each other at the entrance. Master Archibald was hurled
aside by the impact of the brute's hindquarters and shot, at first on
all fours, then prone, alongside the base of the wall; but he had
managed to get his thrust home, and this time with effect. The bull
tossed his head with a mighty roar, ducked it again and charged on
his prey, who flung up both arms and fell spent by the sentry-box.
The sentry sprang to the other side of the roadway and let fly his
charge at random as box, man, and bull crashed to earth together, and
a dreadful bellow mingled with the sharper notes of splintered wood.

It was the end. The bullet had cut clean through the bull's spine at
the neck, and the crowd dragged him lifeless, a board of the
sentry-box still impaled on his horns, off the legs of the
black-avised man--who, at first supposed to be dead also, awoke out
of his swoon to moan feebly for water.

While this was fetching, the butcher knelt and l