"How good of you to say so," she answered, colouring up with pleasure. "But--oh, what a pity to have had to kill such a curious animal. Will the old Squire be very angry, do you think, Mr Wagram?" "He will be sorry; but you must credit him with a higher estimate of the sanctity of human life for anger to enter his mind in this connection. I am sure he will feel only too thankful that a most disastrous accident has been averted." "Oh, I am relieved. Poor thing," she broke off, standing over the dead gnu with a little shudder at the pool of blood which had trickled from the small hole made by the bullet. "It is very ugly, though." "Yes; it's a sort of combination of goat and buffalo, and horse and donkey, to all outward appearance. Ah, here's someone at last," as two men approached. "Here, Perrin," to the foremost, "how on earth did this fellow break out of the west park? Are the palings broken down anywhere?" "Not as I knows on, sir," replied the man, who was an under keeper. "I was round there myself this morning, and 'twas all right then. Reckon he must ha' jumped. Them things do jump terrible high at times. Be you hurt, sir?" with a look at the other's torn clothing. "No; only a scratch. But this young lady might have been killed. You'd better go to the village at once and let Bowles know there's a butchering job here for him, and the sooner he sets about it the better, or the light won't last. Oh, and on the way tell Hood to go over now and make sure there are no gaps or weak places in the palings, or we shall have more of the things getting out I should never have believed one would have taken that leap." "Very good, sir," replied the keeper, turning away to carry out his orders. The girl, meanwhile, was watching Wagram with a whole-souled but half-furtive admiration, not undashed with a little awe. The fact of her rescue by this man in a moment of ghastly peril, and at considerable risk to himself, appealed to her less than did the cool, matter-of-fact way in which he stood there issuing his orders, as though no life-and-death struggle between himself and a powerful and infuriated animal had just taken place. Moreover, there was something in the way in which he gave his orders--as it were, the way of one to whom such direction was bound as by right to belong--that impressed her, and that vividly. Perhaps, too, the unconscious refinement of the man--a natural refinement characterising not only his appearance, but his manner, the tone of his voice, his every word--came especially home to her, possibly by virtue of contrast. Anyhow, it was there, and she hardly had time to disguise the growing admiration in her eyes as he turned to her again. "Will you walk on with me to the Court and have a rest and some tea? We can send you home in the brougham."