. They heard the thudding of a mount that runs and swerves
and runs again. It was nearer. . . . Their hands touched, but they
did not hasten.

When Carlin turned to him, Skag saw what he had seen on the cobra
day--weariness, but courage perfect. A kind of vague revolt rose in
him, that it should ever be called again to her eyes--more, that it
should come so soon. _He_ was ready, but not for Carlin to enter the
vortex again.

This foreboding they knew, together. Love made them sentient. Not
merely a possibility, but almost a glimpse had come--as if an ominous
presence had stolen in with the languor.

"Let's hurry, Carlin--"

She was smiling in a child's delicate way, as their steps quickened.
The thrash of the chase was nearer; the jungle was clearing as they
made their way to the border near Hurda. The low rumbling was from
Nels. He would stand, turning back an instant, then trot to overtake
them. . . . No question now. One pig at least, was clear of the
beaters, coming this way, someone in chase.

The great trees were far apart. They were near _their_ place, after
many minutes. They had caught a glimpse of a mounted man through the
trees--playing his game alone--the pig, but a crash in the
undergrowth. . . . There was silence, as if the hunter were
listening--then a cutting squeal, a laugh from the absorbed horseman,
and it was all before their eyes!

The tusker halted at the border of their little clearing. He had just
seen them and the dog--more enemies. . . . Hideous bone-rack--long as
a pony, tapering to the absurd piggy haunches--head as long as a pony's
head, with a look of decay round the yellow tusks--dripping gash from a
lance-wound under one ear--standing stock just now, at the end of all
flight!

Nels seemed to slide forward two feet, like a shoved statue. It was a
penetrating silence before the voice of Ian Deal:

"You two--what in God's name--"

That was all of words.

His black Arab, Kala Khan, had come to halt twice a lance-length from
the tusker. Carlin and Skag and Nels stood half the circle away from
the man and mount, a little farther from the still beast, the red right
eye of which made the central point of the whole tableau.

Ian looked hunched. He seemed suddenly ungainly--as if all sport like
this were mockery and he had merely been carried on in these lower
currents for a price. His lance wobbled across his bridle-arm which
was too rigid, the curb checking the