away; the deer flocked round him, almost as it seemed in mockery of his skill. At ten paces distance he leveled at a roe-buck; twice his gun flashed in the pan; the third time it went off, but the deer darted off unhurt through the bushes. Cursing his fate, the unhappy hunter threw himself despondingly beneath a tree: at that moment a rustling was heard in the bushes, and out limped an old soldier with a wooden leg.
“Good morning to you, comrade,” said the soldier, “why so gloomy, why so gloomy? Is it body or purse that’s ailing, health or wealth is it that you’re sighing for? Or has somebody put a charm upon your gun? Come, give us a bit of tobacco; and let’s have a little chat together.”
With a surly air William gave him what he asked for, and the soldier threw himself by his side on the grass. After some desultory discussion, the conversation fell upon hunting, and William related his own bad luck. “Let me see your gun,” said the soldier. “Ah! I thought so: this gun has been charmed, and
