"Why, he is nearly as big as a tiger," said Lord H----.
"He is a splendid fellow," answered Walter, joyfully. "One might live a hundred years in England without finding such game."
Lord H---- smiled, and remained for a moment or two, till the young man's rifle was re-loaded, gazing at the beast in silence.
Suddenly, however, they both heard the sound of another rifle on the left, and Walter exclaimed--
"Woodchuck has got one too."
But the report was followed by a yell very different from the snarl or growl of a wounded beast.
"That's no panther's cry," exclaimed Walter Prevost, his cheek turning somewhat pale; "what can have happened?"
"It was a human utterance," said Lord H----, listening, "like that of some one in sudden agony. I trust our friend, the Woodchuck, has not shot himself by accident."
"It is not a white man's cry," said Walter, bending; his ear in the direction from which had come the sounds. But all was still; and the young man raised his voice, and shouted to their companion.
No answer was returned; and Lord H----, exclaiming, "We had better seek him at once, he may need help," darted away towards the spot whence his ear told him the shot had come.