What was such a lad's life compared with his revenge?
It was madness, as he knew, for a shot would guide the pursuit: none the less, did he draw a pistol from his belt and fire.
The bullet grazed the lad's temple, carrying away a bit of his hair.
Iberville staggered forwards, so weak was he from loss of blood, and, with a deep instinct of protection and preservation, fell at Jessica's feet.

There was a sound of footsteps and crackling of brush.

Bucklaw stooped to pick up his prey, but a man burst on him from the trees.

He saw that the game was up and he half raised his knife, but that was only the mad rage of the instant.

His revenge did not comprise so unheard-of a crime.