"What Henry tells you is true," replied Mildred. "Stephen Foster was here at sunrise with a part of a buck, which he says was shot yesterday." "Indeed! Then it is to Stephen's rifle we are indebted. You kill your bucks by proxy, master." "I'll bet," said Henry, "that Stephen Foster hasn't the impudence to charge one penny for that venison. And why? Because, by the laws of chace, one-half belongs to me." "Oh, I understand," interrupted Lindsay, with affected gravity; "it is a matter of great doubt which of you shot it. You both fired at once; or, perhaps, Stephen first, and you afterwards; and the poor animal dropped the moment you took your aim,--even before your piece went off. You know your aim, Harry, is deadly,--much worse than your bullet." "There is no doubt who killed him," said Henry; "for Stephen was on that side of the hill, and I was a little below him, and the buck ran right to Stephen, who, of course, gave him the first shot. But there was I, father, just ready, if Stephen had missed, to bring old Velvet-Horns to the ground, before he could have leaped a rod." "But, unluckily, Stephen's first shot killed him?" "I don't know that," replied Henry. "Another person's knife might have done the business; for the deer jumped down the bank into the road, and there"-- Mildred cast a sidelong look of caution at her brother, to warn him against alluding to a third person, whom it was not discreet to mention. "And there," said Henry, taking the sign, "when I got up to him he was stone dead. I would almost think a deer couldn't be shot dead so suddenly. But Stephen can pitch his lead, as he calls it, just where he likes." "Well, it isn't fair to inquire who killed him," said Lindsay. "One hunter often turns the game to the other's rifle. And, at all events, your dogs, Henry, I dare say, did as much as either of you." "Hylas was just at his heels when he was shot," replied Henry; "and a better dog there isn't in Amherst, or Albemarle to boot." "Well, well! Let us to breakfast. Where is our guest? Tyrrel is surely out before this." "He has been gone from the Dove Cote more than an hour," said Henry. "He told me to say, that some sudden news took him off in haste. I would have waked you, but he forbade it. His man, Curry, who was waiting for him at the ford, I dare say, brought him some dispatches." "It was very sudden," said Lindsay, musing; "the great game will be shortly played." "My dear father, you have not your usual look of health," said Mildred again. "I fear something disturbs you." "A slight cold, only, from exposure to the night air, perhaps. You did not see Tyrrel this morning, Mildred?" "I did not wish to see him, father. I was up when he set out, but I was not in his way." "Fie, girl, you almost speak crossly! Tyrrel, I must think, is not a man to win his way with ladies. But he is a loyal subject to his king. I can tell you, Mildred, loyalty is a virtue of good associations in these times."