s in one hand just clear
of his tree, he squinted into it with one eye while the other kept a
direct watch on the rear of his position. Thus was proved Napoleon's
saying, that for a French soldier the word impossible does not exist. He
had the right tree nearly filling the field of his little mirror.

"If he moves from there," he said to himself exultingly, "I am bound to
see his legs. And in any case he can't come upon me unawares."

And sure enough he saw the boots of General Feraud flash in and out,
eclipsing for an instant everything else reflected in the little mirror.
He shifted its position accordingly. But having to form his judgment of
the change from that indirect view, he did not realise that his own
feet and a portion of his legs were now in plain and startling view of
General Feraud.

General Feraud had been getting gradually impressed by the amazing
closeness with which his enemy had been keeping cover. He had spotted
the right tree with bloodthirsty precision. He was absolutely certain of
it. And yet he had not been able to sight as much as the tip of an ear.
As he had been looking for it at the level of about five feet ten inches
it was no great wonder--but it seemed very wonderful to General Feraud.

The first view of these feet and legs determined a rush of blood to his
head. He literally staggered behind his tree, and had to steady himself
with his hand. The other was lying on the ground--on the ground!
Perfectly still, too! Exposed! What did it mean?... The notion that he
had knocked his adversary over at the first shot then entered General
Feraud's head. Once there, it grew with every second of
attentive gazing, overshadowing every other
supposition--irresistible--triumphant--ferocious.

"What an ass I was to think I could have missed him!" he said to
himself. "He was exposed _en plein_--the fool--for quite a couple of
seconds."

And the general gazed at the motionless limbs, the last vestiges of
surprise fading before an unbounded admiration of his skill.

"Turned up his toes! By the god of war that was a shot!" he continued
mentally. "Got it through the head just where I aimed, staggered behind
that tree, rolled over on his back and died."

And he stared. He stared, forgetting to move, almost awed, almost sorry.
But for nothing in the world would he have had it undone. Such a shot!
Such a shot! Rolled over on his back, and died!

For it was this helpless position, lying on the back, that