Anything would do--a piece of money, a
scrap of paper, feathers--she would chew it all the same. Still, it was
nothing to reproach her for, seeing that she was the prettiest girl in
the village, anyway. Glahn was jealous of me, that was all.
I was friends again with Maggie, though, next evening, and we saw
nothing of Glahn.
III
A week passed, and we went out shooting every day, and shot a heap of
game. One morning, just as we were entering the forest, Glahn gripped me
by the arm and whispered: "Stop!" At the same moment he threw up his
rifle and fired. It was a young leopard he had shot, I might have fired
myself, but Glahn kept the honour to himself and fired first. Now he'll
boast of that later on, I said to myself. We went up to the dead beast.
It was stone dead, the left flank all torn up and the bullet in its
back.
Now I do not like being gripped by the arm, so I said:
"I could have managed that shot myself."
Glahn looked at me.
I said: "You think perhaps I couldn't have done it?"
Still Glahn made no answer. Instead, he showed his childishness once
more, shooting the dead leopard again, this time through the head. I
looked at him in utter astonishment.
"Well, you know," he explains, "I shouldn't like to have it said that I
shot a leopard in the flank.
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