The long stems of the wild mustard swayed and parted, and out sprang a figure, which ran straight towards the two young men.
Hereupon, Don Miguel, hissing out an appeal to the Virgin and the saints, turned and fled.
Meanwhile, the mysterious figure continued its onward career; and Freeman once more levelled his weapon,--when a voice, which gave him such a start of surprise as well-nigh caused him to pull the trigger for sheer lack of self-command, called out, "Why, you abominable young villain! What the mischief do you mean?
Do you want to be hanged ?" "Professor Meschines!" faltered Freeman.
It was indeed that worthy personage, and he was on fire with wrath.

He held in one hand a shattered lantern mounted on the end of a pole, and in the other a long-handled net of gauze, such as entomologists use to catch moths withal.

Under his left arm was slung a brown japanned case, in which he presumably deposited the spoils of his skill.

Freeman's shot had not only smashed and extinguished the lantern which served as bait for the game, but had also given the professor a disagreeable reminder that the tenure of human life is as precarious as that of the silly moth which allows itself to be lured to destruction by shining promises of bliss.
"Upon my soul, professor, I am very sorry," said Freeman.

"You have no idea how formidable you looked; and you could hardly expect me to imagine that you would be abroad at such an hour----" "And why not, I should like to know ?" shouted the professor, towering with indignation.