The robbers soon dispersed and left our hero alone by the bole of a
fallen pine. Nancy appeared in a moment, and, as she passed our hero
on her way to gather branches for fire kindling, she said:
'They are all afraid. Are holding a consultation now. They will give
you the old woman's room.'
Then Nancy was gone. Everything was as still as the solitude of the
tomb; and Roland could hear the partridge 'drumming' among the silent
aisles of the wood.
He sat upon the tree-bole meditating, and the words of Nancy somehow
gave him courage. Presently he heard a rustle in the dry bushes
beside him, and, looking he saw a fallow doe making her way with
quick but dainty tread towards the lake. He saw that she had not seen
him, and that she was coming for the very spot where he sat. So he
laid himself noiselessly down in the shelter of the huge trunk, and
drawing his heavy pistol awaited.
In a few seconds the unsuspecting animal was within half a dozen
paces of him, when, rising, he fired, one, two shots, and the pretty
creature fell over, headlong, dead.
Running over he opened the jugular artery so that the blood might
run out of the meat, and cause it to be white,--although some of the
_connoisseurs_ of game prefer the retention of the blood, as the
meat, they affirm, becomes 'gamey' in a shorter period.
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