“The other must always have the matchlock ready.”
“Always,” said Bevis, “and keep a sharp lookout all round while one does the things. Why the gun is only loaded with shot, now I remember!”
“No more it is: how lucky It did not jump over! Shot would have been of no use.”
“I’ll shoot it off,” said Bevis—“our ramrod won’t draw a charge—and load again.”
“Yes, do.”
Bevis fired the charge in the air, and they heard the pellets presently falling like hail among the trees outside. Then he loaded again with ball, blew the match, and looked to the priming; Mark took the axe in one hand and the bucket in the other, and they unlocked the gate.
“We ought to be able to lock it behind us,” he said.
“We’ll put in another staple presently,” said Bevis. “Step carefully to see if there are any marks on the ground.”
They examined the surface attentively, but could distinguish no footprints: then they went to the fence where the creature had sprung against it. The arrow projected, and near it, on close investigation, they saw that a piece of the bark of the interwoven willow had been torn off as if by a claw. But look as intently as they would they could not trace it further on such ground, the thin grass and sand would not take an imprint.
“Pads,” said Bevis, “else there would have been spoor.”