The one in whose hands the crowbar remained dropped it behind him, as he
darted away.

The man who had been previously wounded began to cry for assistance.

"Don't shout," exclaimed the fifth robber. "You'll alarm the others."

Then putting two fingers in his mouth he whistled shrilly twice.

Lorand saw that at this double whistle the two robbers running hastily
came in his direction, while the din that arose on the farther side of
the castle informed him of an attack from that side too. So he was
between three fires.

He did not lose his presence of mind.

Before the new-comers arrived he had just time to load both
barrels:--the bushes hid him from anyone who might even stand face to
face, so that he could take no sure aim.

Haste, care and courage!

Lorand had often read stories of famous lion-hunters, but had been
unable to believe them: unable to imagine how a lonely man in a wild
waste, far from every human aid, defended only by a bush, could be
courageous enough to cover the oldest male among a group of lions
seeking their prey, and at a distance of ten paces fire into his heart.
Not to hit his heart meant death to the hunter. But he is sure he will
succeed, and sure, too, that the whole group will flee, once his victim
has fallen.

What presence of mind was required for that daring deed! What a strong
heart, what a cool hand!

Now in this awful moment Lorand knew that all this was possible. A man
feels the extent of his manliness, left all to himself in the midst of
danger.

He too was hunting, matched against the most dangerous of all beasts of
prey--the beasts called "men."

Two he had already laid low. He had found his mark as well as the
lion-hunter had found his.

He heard steps of the animals he was hunting approaching his ambuscade
on two sides: and the leader of all stood there under cover, leaning
against a pillar of the verandah, ready to spring, ten paces away. He
had only two charges, with which he had to defend himself against attack
from three sides.

Dangerous sport!

One of the robbers who hurried from the servants' hall disappeared among
the trees in the garden, while the other remained behind.

Lorand quietly aimed at the first: he had to aim low for fear of firing
above him in the dark.

It was well that he had followed his uncle's advice to use shot instead
of bullets. The shot lamed both the robber's legs: he fell in his flight
and stumbled among the bushes.

The one