It is in the old place, and he can see it now, not ten yards before him, between two rocks.
Nearer yet a little, with cat-like tread.

There is Lee, close to the fire, sitting on the ground, dimly visible, yet clearly enough for his purpose.

He rests the gun on a rock, and takes his aim.
He is pinioned from behind by a vigorous hand, and a voice he knows cries in his ear--"Help, Bill, or you'll be shot!" The gun goes off in the scuffle, but hurts nobody, and Lee running up, George finds the tables completely turned, and himself lying, after a few desperate struggles, helplessly pinioned on the ground.
Dick had merely blinded him by appearing to go to Exeter.

They both thought it likely that he would attack Lee, but neither supposed he would have stolen on him so treacherously.

Dick had just noticed him in time, and sprung upon him, or Lee's troubles would have been over for ever.
"You treacherous young sweep, you shall hang for this," were Lee's first words.