duty remained to be performed: one operation, without which fire-arms are useless, had been unaccountably omitted—my piece was uncocked. I did not reflect that in moving the spring a sound would necessarily be produced sufficient to alarm him; but I knew that the chances of escaping his notice, should I be perfectly mute and still, were extremely slender, and that, in such a case, his movements would be quicker than the light; it behoved me, therefore, to repair my omission.
The sound struck him with alarm: he turned and darted at me an enquiring glance. I saw that forbearance was no longer in my power; but my heart sunk while I complied with what may surely be deemed an indispensable necessity. This faltering perhaps it was that made me swerve somewhat from the fatal line: he was disabled by the wound, but not killed.
He lost all power of resistance, and was, therefore, no longer to be dreaded: he rolled upon the ground, uttering doleful shrieks, and throwing his limbs into those contortions which bespeak the keenest agonies to which ill-fated man is subject. Horror, and compassion, and remorse, were mingled into one sentiment, and took possession of my heart: to shut out this spectacle, I withdrew from the spot, but I stopped before I had moved beyond hearing of his cries.
The impulse that drove me from the scene was pusillanimous and cowardly; the past, however deplorable, could not be recalled; but could not I afford some relief to this wretch?—could not I, at least, bring his pangs to a speedy close? Thus he might continue, writhing and calling upon death for hours. Why should his miseries be uselessly prolonged?
There was but one way to end them: to kill him outright was the dictate of compassion and of duty. I hastily returned, and once more levelled my piece at his head: it was a loathsome obligation, and was performed with unconquerable reluctance. Thus to assault and to mangle the body of an enemy already prostrate and powerless was an act worthy of abhorrence; yet it was, in this case, prescribed by pity.
