“Then you didn’t kill its legs, too,” said Oliver; “they’re lively enough. How the little thing can run.”
“I tell you it’s a dead roe-buck,” said the mate, sharply.
“Then why does it keep on running?” said Panton.
“That’s the vitality left in it,” said the mate. “It will soon drop. I’ll go after it at once. It can’t run far.”
As he was speaking he hurriedly threw open the breech of his piece and drew out the discharged cartridge.
“Hullo!” he cried.
“What’s the matter?” said Oliver.
“Well, hang it all!”
“Why don’t you speak?”
“It’s enough to make any man speak,” cried the mate, angrily. “Don’t you see this is only a blue cartridge and number six shot? I pulled the wrong trigger. Here’s the bullet cartridge in the other barrel.”