The bird flew away unharmed, but the shot seemed to have found another mark. There was the sound of a sudden, heavy fall. To Brian's horror and dismay he saw that a man had been standing amongst the brushwood and smaller trees just beyond the ridge of rising ground towards which his gun had been directed. The head only of this man could have been visible from the side of the bank on which Brian was standing; and even the head could be seen very indistinctly. As Brian fired, it seemed to him, curiously enough, as if another report rang in his ears beside that of his own gun. Was any one else shooting in the wood? Or had his senses played him false in the horror of the moment, and caused him to mistake an echo for another shot? He had not time to settle the question. For a moment he stood transfixed; then he rushed forward, but Archie had been before him. The young man was kneeling by the prostrate form and as Brian advanced, he looked up with a face as white as death. "Keep back," he cried, scarcely knowing what he said. "Don't look--don't look, for a moment; perhaps he'll open his eyes: perhaps he is not dead. Keep back!" Dead! Brian never forgot the sick feeling of dread which then came over him. What had he done? He did not hear Archie's excited words; he came hurriedly to the side of the man, who lay lifeless upon the ground with his head on the young fellow's knee. Archie looked up at him with dilated terrified eyes. And Brian stood stock still. It was Richard who lay before him, dead as a stone. He had dropped without a cry, perhaps even without a pang. There was a little purple mark upon his temple, from which a drop of black blood had oozed. A half-smile still lingered on his mouth; his face had scarcely changed colour, his attitude was natural, and yet the spectators felt that Death had set his imprint on that tranquil brow. Richard Luttrell's day was over; he had gone to a world where he might perhaps stand in need of that mercy which he had been only too ready to deny to others who had erred. Archie's elder brother, Donald Grant, and the keeper were hurrying to the spot. They found Brian on his knees beside the body, feeling with trembling hands for the pulse that beat no longer. His face was the colour of ashes, but as yet he had not uttered a single word. Donald Grant spoke first, with an anxious glance towards his brother. "How----" he began, and then stopped short, for Archie had silenced him with an almost imperceptible sign towards Brian Luttrell. "We heard two shots," muttered Donald, as he also bent over the prostrate form. "Only one, I think," said Archie. His brother pulled him aside. "I tell you I heard two," he said in a hushed voice. "You didn't fire?" "I had no gun." "Was it Brian?" "Yes. He shot straight at--at Richard; didn't see him a bit. He was always short-sighted." Donald gave his brother a look, and then turned to the keeper, whose face was working with unwonted emotion at the sight before him.