It was some considerable time before he heard any response to cheer him,
or observed any sign that indicated the presence or proximity of an
animal.
He repeated his bark many times, with intervals of silence between--and
was about yielding to the conviction, that not only the open ground, but
the bushes around it, were going to draw blank.
He had uttered his last bark, with all the alluring intonation that he
could throw into the sound; and was about starting to his feet to
proceed elsewhere, when just then the real cry of the kakur responded to
his feigned one--apparently coming from out the thicket on the opposite
side of the glade.
The sound was heard only faintly, as if the animal was at a great
distance off; but Caspar knew that if it was a response to his call--
which he believed it to be--it would soon draw nearer. He lost no time,
therefore, in giving utterance to a fresh series of barks of the most
seductive character; and then once more strained his ears to listen for
the reply.
Again the barks of the kakur came back upon the breeze--repeated
serially, and so resembling his own, that had Caspar not known that they
proceeded from the throat of a deer, he might have fancied them to be
echoes. He did not allow many seconds to elapse before barking again,
and again, with an equal straining at allurement.
This time, to the surprise of the young hunter, there was no response.
He listened, but not a sound came back--not even an echo.
He barked again, and again listened. As before, silence profound,
unbroken.
No--it was not unbroken. Although it was not the call of the kakur,
another sound interrupted the stillness--a sound equally welcome to the
ear of the young hunter. It was a rustling among the leaves on the
opposite side of the glade; just such as might indicate the passage of
an animal through the bushes.
Directing his eye towards the spot where the sound appeared to proceed,
Caspar saw, or fancied he saw, some twigs in motion. But it was no
fancy: for the moment after he not only saw the twigs move, but behind
the bush to which they belonged he could just make out a
darkish-coloured object. It could be nothing else than the body of the
kakur. Although it was very near--for the glade was scarce twenty yards
across, and the deer was directly behind the line of low shrubs which
formed a sort of selvedge around it--Caspar could not get a good view of
the animal. It was well screened by the foliage, and better perhaps by
the absence of a bright light: for it was yet only the grey twilight of
morning. There was light enough, however, to take aim; and as the
intervening branches were only tiny twigs, Caspar had no fear that they
would interfere with the direction of his ballet. There was no reason,
therefore, why he should delay longer. He might not get a better
chance; and if he waited longer, or barked again, the kakur might
discover the decoy, and run back into the bushes.
"Here goes, then!" muttered Caspar to himself; at the same time placing
himself firmly on one knee, raising his gun and cocking it.
It was a splendid lock--that upon the right-hand barrel of Caspar's
gun--one in which the cock, on being drawn to the full, gives tongue to
tell that the spring is in perfect order.
In the profound stillness of the morning-air the "click" sounded clear
enough to have been heard across the glade, and much further. Caspar
even feared that it might be loud enough to affright the deer; and kept
his eye fixed upon the latter as he drew back the cock. The animal
stirred not; but instead--almost simultaneous with the click of his gun,
and as if it had been its echo--another click fell upon the hunter's
ear, apparently coming from the spot on which the kakur was standing!
Fortunate was it for Caspar that his own spring had clicked so clear--
and fortunate also he had heard that apparent echo--else he might either
have shot his brother, or his brother him, or each might have shot the
other!
As it was, the second click caused Caspar to start to his feet. Karl at
the same instant was seen hurriedly rising erect upon the opposite side
of the glade, while both with cocked guns in their hands stood eyeing
each other, like two individuals about to engage in a deadly duel of
rifles!
Had any one seen them at that moment, and in that attitude, their wild
looks would have given colour to the supposition that such was in
reality their intent; and some time would have elapsed before any action
on the part of either would have contradicted this fearful belief: for
it was several seconds before either could find speech to express their
mutual surprise.
It was something more than surprise--it was awe--a deep tragical emotion
of indefinable terror, gradually giving way to a feeling of heartfelt
thankfulness, at the fortunate chance that had made them aware of each
other's presence, and saved them from a mutual fratricide.
For some seconds I have said not a word was spoken; and then only short
exclamations of similar import came trembling from the lips of both.
Both, as if acting under a common impulse, flung their guns to the
ground. Then, rushing across the glade, they threw their arms around
each other; and remained for some moments locked in a brotherly embrace.
No explanation was needed by either. Karl, after passing round the lake
by the other side, had strayed by chance in the direction of the glade.
On nearing it, he had heard the barking of a kakur--not dreaming that it
was Caspar acting as a decoy. He had answered the signal; and finding
that the kakur still kept its place, he had advanced toward the opening
with the intention of stalking it. On getting nearer he had ceased to
utter the call, under the belief that he should find the deer out in the
open ground. Just as he arrived by its edge, Caspar was mimicking the
kakur in such an admirable manner, and so energetically, that Karl could
neither fail to be deceived as to the character of the animal, nor
remain ignorant of its position. The darkish disc visible behind the
evergreen leaves could be no other than the body of the deer; and Karl
was just about cocking his rifle, to bore it with a bullet, when the
click of Caspar's double-barrel sounding ominously in his ear,
fortunately conducted to a far different _denouement_ than that fatal
_finale_ which was so near having occurred.