"He still cuts squirrels in half with a single flying bullet; not as they climb along the tree, but now as they leap from one tree to another."
"And his rival Moinat?"
"Oh! poor devil; don't you know what happened to him?"
"Was he too killed by a nephew?"
"When he was out wolf-hunting last winter his gun burst and blew off his left hand."
"How on earth did an accident like that happen to such an old sportsman?"
"As he was leaping a ditch the butt of his gun struck the ground without his noticing it, and by some means or other the gun exploded."
"Was there no way of saving part of his hand?"
"Not one finger! Lécosse had to amputate it within a few inches of the wrist."