Old Tom 



base of the gigantic cliff, we descended with little 

 difficulty. 



&quot; We might meet the old gray cat anywheres along 

 here,&quot; said Frank. 



The wall of yellow limestone had shelves, ledges, 

 fissures and cracks, any one of which might have 

 concealed a lion. On these places I turned dark, 

 uneasy glances. It seemed to me events succeeded 

 one another so rapidly that I had no time to think, 

 to examine, to prepare. We were rushed from one 

 sensation to another. 



&quot; Gee! look here,&quot; said Frank; &quot; here s his tracks. 

 Did you ever see the like of that? &quot; 



Certainly I had never fixed my eyes on such enor 

 mous cat-tracks as appeared in the yellow dust at the 

 base of the rim wall. The mere sight of them was 

 sufficient to make a man tremble. 



&quot; Hold in the dogs, Frank,&quot; I called. &quot; Listen. 

 I think I heard a yell.&quot; 



From far above came a yell, which, though thinned 

 out by distance, was easily recognized as Jones s. 

 We returned to the opening of the break, and throw 

 ing our heads back, looked up the slide to see him 

 coming down. 



&quot; Wait for me ! Wait for me ! I saw the lion go 

 in a cave. Wait for me ! &quot; 



With the same roar and crack and slide of rocks 



229 



