You've done it now." He stood listening intently, the rifle smoking in his hands.

The last echo died away.

The smoke vanished, the vast silence closed upon the passing echoes of the rifle as the ocean closes upon a ship's wake.
Nothing moved; yet McTeague bestirred himself sharply, rolling up his blankets, resaddling the mule, getting his outfit together again.

From time to time he muttered: "Hurry now; hurry on.

You fool, you've done it now.