All pluck to the back-bone, the Commodore craned not nor hesitated, but dashed the colt, for the first time in his life, at the high barrier--he tried to stop, but could not, so powerfully did his rider cram him-- leaped short, and tumbled head over heels, carrying half the wall away with him, and leaving a gap as if a wagon had passed through it--to Tom's astonishment and agony--for he supposed the colt destroyed forever. Scarcely, however, had A--- gained his feet, before a sight met his eyes, which made him leave the colt, and run as fast as his legs could carry him toward the scene of action. The stag, seeing his human enemy so near, had strained every nerve to escape, and Harry, desperately rash and daring, seeing he could not turn or head him, actually spurred upon him counter to broadside, in hope to ride him down; foiled once again, in this--his last hope, as it seemed-- he drew his longest knife, and as--a quarter of a second too late only-- he crossed behind the buck, he swung himself half out of his saddle, and striking a full blow, succeeded in hamstringing him; while the gray, missing the support of the master-hand, stumbled and fell upon his head. Horse, stag, and man, all rolled upon the ground within the compass of ten yards--the terrified and wounded deer striking out furiously in all directions--so that it seemed impossible that Archer could escape some deadly injury--while, to increase the fury and the peril of the scene, the hounds came up, and added their fresh fierceness to the fierce confusion. Before, however, A--- came up, Harry had gained his feet, drawn his small knife--the larger having luckily flown many yards as he fell--and running in behind the struggling quarry, had seized the brow antler, and at one strong and skilful blow, severed the weasand and the jugular. One gush of dark red gore--one plunging effort, and the superb and stately beast lay motionless forever--while the loud death halloo rang over the broad valley--all fears, all perils, utterly forgotton in the strong rapture of that thrilling moment. SNIPE ON THE UPLAND "Now then, boys, we've no time to loose," said Archer, as he replaced his knives, which he had been employed in wiping with great care, in their respective scabbards, "it's getting toward eight o'clock, and I feel tolerably peckish, the milk punch and biscuits notwithstanding; we shall not be in the field before ten o'clock, do our best for it. Now, Jem," he continued, as that worthy, followed by David Seers and the Captain made their appearance, hot and breathless, but in high spirits at the glorious termination of the morning's sport--"Now, Jem, you and the Captain must look out a good strong pole, and tie that fellow's legs, and carry him between you as far as Blain's house--you can come up with the wagon this afternoon and bring him down to the village. What the deuce are you pottering at that colt about, Tom? He's not hurt a pin's value, on the contrary--"