The lion must have died within the minute without my shot to finish him.
Coutlass lay dead under the defeated beast that had crawled away to hide and lick his wounds.

We dragged his body out from under, and in proof that Schillingschen, the common enemy, lived, a bullet came whistling between us.

The flash of my shot had given him direction.
Perhaps he could see us, too, against the moon.

We ducked, and lay still, but no more shots came.
"He's only got four left," Will whispered.

"Maybe he'll husband those!" "Maybe he knows by now that box is empty!" said I.