Lumley's hand had gone back to his pocket, and lay hidden there. He did not speak again for some moments. They were full in sight of the trees now, and to the left the low ridge had become visible.
"We'd better strike off here, I think," said Gray. "It will be easier for the horse a little lower down."
They turned as he suggested.
"It's pretty close now, ain't it?" asked Lumley huskily.
"Just over the ridge. The track was plain enough, even by moonlight, We can't miss it."
Lumley made no answer, but the moment after he came to a stand-still.
"What's the matter with the horse?" he exclaimed. "It's dead lame."
Gray turned round and looked at it
"A stone in the hoof, perhaps," he said, bending down to take a look.
The moment he stooped Lumley drew out his pistol and took aim at him. Gray's life was saved by the horse. As he bent down and lifted up the hoof it made a sudden, violent swerve away from him. It was at that moment Lumley pulled the trigger. The bullet whistled past Gray's head, and he sprang up, dazed and horrified, but quite unhurt, and made a clutch at Lumley's arm. But the arm was already lifted with the smoking pistol in it, and it descended with crushing force on Gray's upturned brow. Lumley had no need to repeat the blow. Gray fell back without a groan, and lay upon the earth as senseless and motionless as one already dead. For the moment Lumley thought he was dead.