The ground seemed to be falling sharply, and he recognized that there was a declivity not far away.
The deer rose once more, and, though only a yard or two away, he could scarcely see it.

His eyes seemed clouded, and he was gasping heavily.
Whether he dropped the rifle with intent or stumbled and let it slip he never knew, but in another moment he had flung himself upon the deer with the long knife in his hand.

Then his feet slipped, and he and the beast rolled down a slope together.

The blade he gripped struck soil and stones, but at length he knew that it had gone in to the hilt in yielding flesh, and with a tense effort he buried it again.

After that he staggered clear, half-dazed, but exultant, with a broad crimson stain on the rags he wore.