THE THEFT 235 



began to feel more at ease. Here among 

 the great trunks there was less undergrowth 

 to obscure his view, less danger of the panthers 

 being able to steal up upon him and take 

 him unawares. He slackened his pace some- 

 what, drawing deep breaths into his leathern 

 lungs. But he relaxed no precaution, run- 

 ning noiselessly now over the soft carpet of the 

 forest, and flitting from tree-trunk to tree- 

 trunk as if an enemy were at his very heels. At 

 last, quitting the valley, he started on a long 

 diagonal up the near slope of Burnt Ridge 

 Spur. 



The face of the country now suddenly 

 changed. Years before, a forest-fire had 

 traversed this slope of the ridge, cutting a 

 clean swathe straight along it. 



The man's ascending trail thus led him 

 across a space of open, a space of under- 

 growth hardly knee-deep, dotted with a few 

 tall " rampikes," or fire-stripped tree-trunks, 

 bleached by the rains and inexpressibly 

 desolate. Having here no cover, the man 

 ran his best, and finally, having crossed the 

 open, he dropped down in a dense thicket to 

 rest, breathing hard from that last spurt. 



In the secure concealment of the thicket 

 he laid aside the complaining burden from 

 his back, stood his rifle in a bush, let out his 



