"Why?" re-echoed the Count, with a savage laugh. "Why? Because these —— barrels were both on half-cock, and I pulled like to break my fingers over the —— things. What did you shoot?"
"I believe I've left a buck lying down there."
"Why don't you go and look after him, and get somebody to carry him home, instead of waiting here?"
The Count was evidently very uncomfortable. He bit his lip, he worked with the trigger of his gun; and finally he walked abruptly away from Will, and addressed, in a whisper, the first of the boys who came up:
"Kommen Sie hier."
The boy stared in amazement at being called "Sie." Of course he dared not think that the Count was joking.
"Ich habe geschossen—wissen Sie——?"
"Ja, Herr," said the boy, vaguely, though he did not understand what the Count meant.
"Ein kleines—ein gar kleines—d—n it, look here!"
He caught the boy by the shoulder, as if he meant to kick him, and dragged him a few yards farther on, and pointed to the ground. The boy opened his eyes: if he had seen the corpse of his first-cousin lying there, he could not have been more astonished.