THE THEFT 233 



the darkness itself. Then, as his eyes adapted 

 themselves to the gloom, he made out the 

 inmost recesses of the cave, and realized that, 

 except for a vague little heap in one corner, 

 the cave was empty. In that case, there 

 was not a single moment to be lost. With one 

 piercing backward glance down the trail, 

 he slipped into the cave, snatched up the 

 two kittens, regardless of their savage spitting 

 and clawing, and thrust them into an empty 

 potato-sack which he had brought with him 

 for the purpose. Hurriedly twisting a cord 

 about the neck of the sack, he wiped his 

 bleeding hands upon his sleeve with a grin, 

 slung the sack over his left shoulder, and 

 hurried away. Having captured the prize 

 he was quite willing to avoid, if possible, 

 any immediate reckoning with the old 

 panthers. 



Till he reached the grass-patch by the 

 stream he took no pains to go silently, but 

 made all possible haste, crashing through 

 the branches and sending a shower of small 

 stones clattering down the ravine. The 

 angry and indomitable kittens in the bag on 

 his back kept growling and spitting, and 

 trying to dig their sharp claws into him, but 

 his buckskin shirt was tough, and he paid 

 no attention to their protest. At the edge 



