Nothing stirred.
"It's your own look-out! If you show fight, you're a dead man. I shall count three and fire."
He walked to twenty yards of the figure and counted, with outstretched arm:
"One . . . two . . . . Are you ready, Conrad? Fire!"
The two bullets were discharged at the same time.
There was a cry of distress. The figure seemed to collapse. The two men rushed forward:
"Ah, now you've got it, you rascal! I'll show you the stuff that Vorski's made of! You've given me a pretty run, you oaf! Well, your account's settled!"
After the first few steps, he slackened his speed, for fear of a surprise. The figure did not move; and Vorski, on coming close, saw that it had the limp and misshapen look of a dead man, of a corpse. Nothing remained but to fall upon it. This was what Vorski did, laughing and jesting:
"A good bag, Conrad! Let's pick up the game."
But he was greatly surprised, on picking up the game, to feel in his hands nothing but an almost impalpable quarry, consisting, to tell the truth, of just a white robe, with no one inside it, the owner of the robe having taken flight in good time, after hooking it to the thorns of a thicket. As for the dog, he had disappeared.