“No,” said Mr Gregory, “the brute is dying. Good heavens! what’s that?”
It was unmistakably a shot, and not fired with a fowling-piece, but evidently from some good-sized gun.
Chapter Thirteen.
How there was a startling Surprise.
“What in the world is that?” cried Gregory.
“That sir?” said the major importantly. “That was the report of a gun.”
“Good gracious, man, I know that,” said the mate.
“There again,” cried Morgan.