nd again, with an equal straining at allurement.

This time, to the surprise of the young hunter, there was no response.
He listened, but not a sound came back--not even an echo.

He barked again, and again listened. As before, silence profound,
unbroken.

No--it was not unbroken. Although it was not the call of the kakur,
another sound interrupted the stillness--a sound equally welcome to the
ear of the young hunter. It was a rustling among the leaves on the
opposite side of the glade; just such as might indicate the passage of
an animal through the bushes.

Directing his eye towards the spot where the sound appeared to proceed,
Caspar saw, or fancied he saw, some twigs in motion. But it was no
fancy: for the moment after he not only saw the twigs move, but behind
the bush to which they belonged he could just make out a
darkish-coloured object. It could be nothing else than the body of the
kakur. Although it was very near--for the glade was scarce twenty yards
across, and the deer was directly behind the line of low shrubs which
formed a sort of selvedge around it--Caspar could not get a good view of
the animal. It was well screened by the foliage, and better perhaps by
the absence of a bright light: for it was yet only the grey twilight of
morning. There was light enough, however, to take aim; and as the
intervening branches were only tiny twigs, Caspar had no fear that they
would interfere with the direction of his ballet. There was no reason,
therefore, why he should delay longer. He might not get a better
chance; and if he waited longer, or barked again, the kakur might
discover the decoy, and run back into the bushes.

"Here goes, then!" muttered Caspar to himself; at the same time placing
himself firmly on one knee, raising his gun and cocking it.

It was a splendid lock--that upon the right-hand barrel of Caspar's
gun--one in which the cock, on being drawn to the full, gives tongue to
tell that the spring is in perfect order.

In the profound stillness of the morning-air the "click" sounded clear
enough to have been heard across the glade, and much further. Caspar
even feared that it might be loud enough to affright the deer; and kept
his eye fixed upon the latter as he drew back the cock. The animal
stirred not; but instead--almost simultaneous with the click of his gun,
and as if it had been its echo--another click fell upon the hunter's
ear, apparently coming from the spot on which the kaku