Where's the horse-whip and the horse-pond now?"

"Here!" shouted the young baronet; and with a mighty effort he freed
his arms, and raising the whip, slashed Dick Darkly for the second time
across the face. "You murdering villain, you shall swing for this!"

With a blind roar of pain and rage, the murderer closed with his
victim. They grappled, and rolled over and over in each other's arms.

Panting and speechless, the death-struggle went on; but Sir Everard was
no match for the burly giant. With a savage cry, the huge poacher
thrust his hand into his belt, and a long, blue-bladed knife gleamed in
the moon's rays.

"At last!" he panted. "I'll have your heart's blood, as I swore I'd
have it!"

He lifted the knife. Sir Everard Kingsland tried to gasp one last
brief prayer in that supreme moment.

"Help!" he cried, with a last wild struggle--"help! help! murder!"

There was a rustling in the trees and some one sprung out. The last
word was lost in the sharp report of a pistol, and with a scream of
agony, Dick Darkly dropped his knife and fell backward on the grass.




CHAPTER VIII.