But when he looked along the barrel the heron was gone, and,
to his wonder and terror, a man of infinitely great age and infirmity
stood in its place. He lowered the gun, and the heron stood there
with bent head and motionless feathers, as though it had slept from
the beginning of the world. He raised the gun, and no sooner did he
look along the iron than that enemy of all enchantment brought the
old man again before him, only to vanish when he lowered the gun for
the second time. He laid the gun down, and crossed himself three
times, and said a _Paternoster_ and an _Ave Maria_, and
muttered half aloud: 'Some enemy of God and of my patron is standing
upon the smooth place and fishing in the blessed water,' and then
aimed very carefully and slowly. He fired, and when the smoke had
gone saw an old man, huddled upon the grass and a long line of herons
flying with clamour towards the sea. He went round a bend of the
pool, and coming to the little stream looked down on a figure wrapped
in faded clothes of black and green of an ancient pattern and spotted
with blood. He shook his head at the sight of so great a wickedness.
Suddenly the clothes moved and an arm was stretched upwards towards
the rosary which hung about his neck, and long wasted fingers almost
touched the cross. He started back, crying: 'Wizard, I will let no
wicked thing touch my blessed beads'; and the sense of a The Old
great danger just escaped made him tremble.
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