My words recalled him to himself; flinging his pistol far into the wood, he exclaimed,
"I will not fire at my brother."
"Coward!"
"The name belongs not to our race; fire at me if you will, I will not at you."
Enraged beyond expression, yet even in my madness ashamed to fire at an unarmed man, I hesitated.
My brother spoke.
"Come, William, let us go home."
"Home!—ha! ha! ha! my home is the wood and the cave! Here, take my good-night."
Thus speaking I flung my pistol full at his face with all my strength; it struck him lengthwise, and being cocked, went off in consequence of the concussion.
Sir John fell upon the cold snow. I rushed up to him, and beheld the blood flowing in torrents from a ghastly wound; the ball had taken a downward direction, and penetrated the abdomen.