er, went faster than either of the brothers expected; so
Fritz, seeing them coming out of a clump of brushwood in the distance
just after Eric had brought down his selected victim, immediately
crouched down in his retreat. Hearing soon afterwards, however, the
sound of the animals' hoofs, he was afraid of raising his head to make
an observation as to their whereabouts until they should come closer,
thinking that his sudden appearance might cause them race off again in
another direction and lose him the chance of a shot.

He had not to wait long, for the goats came closer and closer--too
close, indeed, to be pleasant!

"Look out, Fritz! look out, brother! they're right on top of you,"
shouted out Eric from the distance, away behind the flock, now coming up
at a gallop, and still headed by the venerable "Kaiser Billy."

Fritz at once scrambled to his feet, rifle in hand, cocking the weapon
as he rose up; but, at the same instant that he stood on his legs, a
blow like a battering ram struck him in the small of the back, sending
him down flying to the ground again on his face and pitching the cocked
rifle out of his hands.

This was not the end of it, either; for, the weapon went off with a loud
bang as it fell beside him, the bullet penetrating his leg just below
the knee in an upward direction and narrowly escaping his head. As for
"Kaiser Billy," who had butted him as he rose up, and thus did the
damage, he galloped off with a loud "baa" of triumph, as if shouting a
paean of victory.

"Himmel! are you hurt, Fritz?" called out Eric, hastening up on hearing
the report of the rifle. He was alarmed at seeing his brother lying
motionless on the ground.

But, there was no answer; nor did Fritz even move at the sound of his
voice!

CHAPTER THIRTY.

ANOTHER MISHAP.

In another minute Eric arrived where his brother was lying; when,
throwing himself on his knees, he bent over him anxiously. "Oh, Fritz,
are you badly hurt?" he cried: and, still receiving no answer, he burst
into a passion of sobs. "He's dead, he's dead!" he wailed in a broken
voice--"dead, never to speak to me more!"

"No, laddie, not quite dead yet," whispered Fritz faintly. The sudden
blow in the back from the goat's horns, striking him as it did at the
base of the spine, had rendered him for the moment unconscious; the
unexpected attack had injured him terribly--more so, indeed, than the
bullet wound through his leg. Besides, he was lying