lace within the
borders of that very region where Kiopo had first drawn breath.

Next morning Dusty Star woke up well pleased with his new home. The day
passed quietly, and the inhabitants of the neighbourhood kept well out
of the way. Kiopo did his hunting at a distance, and supplied the camp
with food. Besides that, there was nothing particular to do. That was
the joy of living where the world forgot to get civilized. After you had
caught your meat and cooked it, the days and nights were very wide,
because there were no clocks to make them narrow, and to chop them up
into little bits called Time.

So because there really was nothing particular to do, Dusty Star on the
fourth day after settling down in the new home, thought he would climb
up Carboona in the climbing afternoon.

Now the same idea, almost at the same moment happened to come to another
dweller upon Carboona, and that was the Catamount, or great wild cat,
which had its lair in a hollow tree less than half-a-mile from the camp,
and carried the dull green fire in his cruel eyes to make the leafy
shadows a terror to all lesser forest folk.

He had slept most of the day in his tree after a good kill the night
before, and was not feeling especially hungry. Still, to a blood-loving
creature like the Catamount, there was always a pleasure in tracking
fresh meat even if it was not needed. So the great cat set out for a
leisurely stroll across Carboona to find if any new smells had been
spilt along the world since he had gone to sleep.

For some time he got nothing that particularly interested his nose.
There were smells of course. But some were old, and some were
unpleasant, and one or two were really dangerous. Among these last, was
one of the big wolf which had recently come to harry Carboona, as if he
were its rightful lord. The Catamount's eyes gleamed with an ugly light
as he recognised Kiopo's hated scent, and went a little more warily on
his way. Unlike Dusty Star, he did not immediately seek the upper sunny
slopes. The green glooms of the evening shadows pleased him more. As he
slunk along, lifting and setting his cushioned feet so delicately that
his coming was like that of a piece of drifting thistledown, he looked
as evil a presence as could be found abroad in the ending of the day.

When he reached the last ravine, above the further side of which the
foxes had their den, he paused. A faint, unusual sound reached his ears
at irregular intervals. A