THE END OF THE STALK 217. 



How different it would be, not only in stalking, 

 but in everyday life ! How you would control 

 that shaking hand, steady that tumultuous, gasp- 

 ing breath, billet your bullet in the right place, 

 and live happy ever after ! Miserable, self-accus- 

 ing, and despairing, 1 tore down the hill. 1 reached 

 a knoll, and was confronted by another ; reached 

 that, and groaned aloud, for I could see nothing. 



" Oh, you fool ! " began the little accusing voice 

 within me ; " you utter fool, after all that long 

 stalk ! He was yours, and you missed him. A 

 little more care and you'd ha\'e got him. Now 



you'll never have another chance. You'll " 



And then I saw him. His horns just showed 

 amid the long grass below me, and I sank down 

 rejoicing. One moment blank, liopeless, utter 

 despair, and then at a bound to the heights of 

 Olympus. Down 1 crept — very, very softly ; but 

 quiet as T was, his dulled senses caught the sound, 

 and he was up and oti". Then he fell once more, 

 rose and fell again ; and up on the darkening sky- 

 line Lao-Wei, whom I could have caught and 

 hugged like a brother, danced and sang in an 

 exaltation of barbaric delight. 



