"Fire away," said the farmer, "I knowed you was a coward, and I be glad it be so. Now mind, if so be you shuts, I lets the dog go, honour braight, because e dunno what fair play be. But if e harken to rason, I’ll give e one chance more. I’ll tie up the dog with my braces to thiccy tree--allers wear cart rope I does--and I’ll tak e Quane’s prisoner, with my left hond, and t’other never out of my breeches pocket; look e, zee, laike thiccy." And the farmer buried his right hand in his capacious trowsery. The Corsican seemed astonished. "Fool-hardy clown, worthy son of a bull-headed country, stop at the stump--then, take that." Out blazed the pistol with a loud ring, and I saw that the farmer was struck. He let go the dog, and leaped up; his right hand fell on Lepardo’s temple, and seemed to crush the skull in,--another shot at the same instant and down fell the farmer heavily. "Great God," I screamed, and leaped forward. But Giudice was loose to avenge him, though I could swear that it was on a corpse. Corpse or living body, over and over it rolled, with the dog’s fangs in its throat. I heard a gurgle, a tearing, and grinding, and then a loud splash in the water. The dog, and the murderer, both of man and dog, sunk in the lake together. Twenty feet out from the shore rose above water one moment, drawn ghastly white in the moonbeams, the last view seen till the judgment-day of the face of Lepardo Della Croce. Almost drowned himself--for he would not release his father’s murderer, while a gasp was in him--staggered at last to the shore my noble and true dog Giudice. He fell down awhile, to recover his breath, then shook himself gratefully, tottered to me, where I knelt at the farmer’s side, and wagged his tail for approval. The water from his chest and stomach dripped on the farmer’s upturned face, and for a moment revived him. "No belt, no tino lad, I ’ont tak’ it. Zimth laike a ticket for chating. I dunno as I’d tak’ the mony, if it warn’t for the poor chillers, naine chillers now, and anither a-coomin. Mustn’t drink no more beer, but Beany shall have his’n." And his head fell back on my lap, and I felt sure that he was dead. How I screamed and shrieked, till I lay beside him, with Judy licking my face, none can tell but the gamekeepers, who had heard the shots, and came hurrying. Of this lower end of the lake they happened to be most jealous; for a brood of pintail ducks, very rare I believe in England, had been hatched here this summer, and no one was allowed to go near them. Poor Judy kept all the men aloof, till I was able to speak to him. Then I perceived that he as well was bleeding, wounded perhaps by the poniard as he leaped on his enemy’s breast. It had entered just under the shoulder, and narrowly missed the heart.