THE THEFT 229 



bush, half lifting his rifle, and peering with 

 vigilant eyes into the heart of every covert. 

 He expected to see the beast's eyes palely 

 glaring at him from some near ambush. 



In a few minutes, however, he satisfied 

 himself that the panther had gone on. Emerg- 

 ing from the bushes, he knelt down and 

 examined the footprints minutely. Yes, the 

 trail was older than he had at first imagined, 

 by a good half hour. Some of the trodden 

 grass had perfectly recovered itself, and a 

 crushed brown bettle was already surrounded 

 by ants. He arose with a grim smile, and 

 traced the trail back across the grass-patch 

 till it mingled with the confusion of foot- 

 prints, going and coming, which led up the 

 mountains. In this confusion he overlooked 

 the traces of the other panther, so he was 

 led to the conclusion that only one of the 

 pair had gone out. If this was the path to 

 the lair, as he inferred both from the number 

 of the tracks and the fitness of the country, 

 then he must expect to find one of the pair 

 at home. His crafty and deep-set eyes 

 flamed at the thought, for he was a great 

 hunter and a dead shot with his heavy 

 Winchester. 



For days the half-breed had been searching 

 for the trail and the den of the panther pair. 



