shooting now as he lay unconscious, 

 resting, seemed an awful crime. But 

 Yan for weeks and months had pined 

 for this* His chance had come, and 

 shoot he must. The long, long 

 strain grew tighter yet grew taut 

 - broke down, as up the rifle went. 

 But the wretched thing kept wab- 

 bling and pointing all about the little 

 glade. His breath came hot and 

 fast and choking so much, so very 

 much, so clearly all, hung on a 

 single touch. He laid the rifle down, 

 revulsed and trembled in the snow. 

 But he soon regained the mastery, 

 his hand was steady now, the sights 

 in line 'twas but a deer out yon- 

 der. But at that moment the Stag 

 turned full Yan's way, with those 



45 



