Tick! tick! went the cock of Romescos' rifle; he levelled it to his
eye,--a sharp whistling report rung through the air, and the body of
the old man, shot through the heart, lumbered to the earth, as a
deadly shriek sounds high above the echoes over the distant
landscape-"M'as'r in heaven take 'um and have mercy on 'um!" gurgles
on the air: his body writhes convulsively-the devouring dogs spring
savagely upon the ration-all is over with the old slave!
Instantly with the report of the rifle, Romescos' horse darts,
vaults toward the oaks, halts suddenly, and, ere he has time to
grasp the reins, throws him headlong against one of their trunks. An
oath escapes his lips as from the saddle he lifted; not a word more
did he lisp, but sank on the ground a corpse. His boon companion,
forgetting the dogs in their banquet of flesh, quickly dismounts,
seizes the body in his arms, the head hanging carelessly from the
shoulders: a few quivering shrugs, and all is over. "Neck broken,
and dead!" ejaculates the affrighted companion, resting the dead
hunter's back against his left knee, and with his right hand across
the breast, moving the head to and fro as if to make sure life has
left.
"Poor Anthony,--it's a bad end; but the state should bury him with
honours; he ware the best 'un at this kind o' business the state
ever had," mutters Bengal, glancing revengefully toward the island,
where his democratic dogs are busy in the work of destruction. Then
he stretches the lifeless body on the ground, crosses those hands
full of blood and treachery, draws a handkerchief from his pocket,
spreads it over the ghastly face fast discolouring, as the riderless
horse, as if by instinct, bounds back to the spot and suddenly halts
over his dead master, where he frets the ground with his hoof, and,
with nostrils extended, scents along the body.
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