regain self-command, if he did not muster courage, if he shot badly and only wounded the assailant, even though heavily, the little maid must perish. But he could master himself to that degree that under the influence of these thoughts his hands and limbs suddenly became calm like steel springs. With one glance of the eye he detected a dark spot in the neighborhood of the beast's ear,—with one light motion he directed the barrel of the rifle at it and fired.
The report of the shot, Nell's scream, and a short, shrill bleat resounded at the same moment. Stas jumped towards Nell, and covering her with his own body, he aimed again at the assailant.
But the second shot was entirely unnecessary, for the dreadful cat lay like a rag, flattened out, with nose close to the ground and claws wedged in the grass—almost without a quiver. The bursting bullet had torn out the back of its head and the nape of its neck. Above its eyes, gory, torn, white convolutions of its brain oozed out.
And the little hunter and Nell stood for some time, gazing now at the slain beast, then at each other, not being able to utter a word. But after that something strange happened. Now this same Stas, who a moment before would have astonished the most experienced hunter in the whole world by his calmness and coolness, suddenly became pale; his limbs began to tremble, tears flowed from his eyes, and afterwards he seized his head with the palms of his hands and began to repeat:
"Oh, Nell! Nell! If I had not returned!"
And he was swayed by such consternation, such belated despair, that every fiber within him quivered as if he had a fever. After an unheard-of exertion of his will and all the powers of his soul and body a moment of weakness and relaxation had come. Before his eyes
