Suddenly he heard a light crackling in the brush,--a faint footfall.
It reminded him of the deer-path close at hand. He crouched down
noiselessly amongst the low growth and lifted his rifle, his eyes
fixed on the point where the path disappeared in the bushes, and
where he would first catch a glimpse of the approaching animal.

He heard the step again. His finger was trembling on the trigger,
when down the path leisurely walked an old gentleman attired in
black, a hammer in his hand, and a pair of gleaming spectacles
poised placidly upon the bridge of an intellectual Roman nose. And
this queer game halted in the middle of the deer-path, all
unconscious of his deadly danger.

It was a wonder that the rifle was not discharged, for the panic-
stricken Birt had lost control of his muscles, and his convulsive
finger was still quivering on the trigger as he trembled from head
to foot. He hardly dared to try to move the gun. For a moment he
could not speak. He gazed in open-mouthed amazement at the
unsuspecting old gentleman, who was also unaware of the far more
formidable open mouth of the rifle.

"Now, ain't ye lackin' fur head-stuffin'?" suddenly yelled out Birt,
from his hiding-place.

The startled old man jumped, with the most abrupt alacrity. In
fact, despite his age and the lack of habit, he bounded as
acrobatically from the ground as the expected deer could have done.
He was, it is true, a learned man; but science has no specific for
sudden fright, and he jumped as ignorantly as if he did not know the