uld have escaped. Yet this thing had done so. It had not
fallen, it had simply disappeared.

He stared upward at the spot. The tall, yellow-wood tree was strong and
sound, and showed no sign of hole or cleft that would have held a rat.
Ha!

Lying behind a large limb, motionless as the wood itself, blending so
completely with its colour as to escape detection, was the object of his
search, watching him. But for the glint of the eye, he would have
failed to discover it at all. Again his gun roared.

But--too late. With superhuman agility the thing had leapt away, and,
springing from branch to branch with the quickness and security of cat
and monkey combined, it seemed a hopeless chase to Greenoak, who, as he
ran, marking its course by the swaying of the branches, had already
reloaded both barrels. Just the fraction of a glimpse, and it was his
last chance. Again the reverberation of the report rolled bellowing
from cliff to cliff. With it was a shrill, beast-like scream, and
something thudded heavily to the earth. Harley Greenoak walked
leisurely up to it, and after a moment's examination came away with a
smile of grim satisfaction on his face, It was not to last, though. He
had not gone far when a stony glare of horror came into his eyes as they
rested on something lying on the ground, the form of a man, the form of
Dick Selmes, his charge.

It was lying on its face with arms extended. But as he stood over it
the eyes opened with a dull stupid stare, as that of a person awakened
out of a heavy sleep.

"Wake up, Dick. Wake up, man," said Greenoak, decidedly, lugging him
into a sitting posture. "Here, take a drink of this."

From the bundle that bulged he produced a bottle of brandy.

"Don't want to," said the other, sleepily.

"But you must, man. If you don't you're a dead 'un."

This told, and Dick obeyed. The effect of the spirit was marvellous,
for, having swallowed enough to have rendered him helpless twice over
under ordinary circumstances, it merely invigorated him now. Quick as
thought Greenoak had cut away his shirt collar, and, sure enough, there
on the neck was the fatal mark, the tiny, discoloured speck. This
Greenoak promptly lanced, applying a mixture which he had with him.
Then he made his charge get up and walk smartly up and down with him.
In which occupation they were found by old Hesketh, who, having heard
the shots, faint and far, had saddled up and hurried on in case the
in