le to hold it at arm's length and at the same time never relax that
deadly, strangling grip--the while the expression of the repulsive and
horrible countenance turned upon the agonising reptile was one of
fiendish gloating. At length the furious writhings died down into a
faint muscular heave, and the black fiend, relaxing none of his grip of
the now dead reptile, glided into the dark shades which had covered the
retreat of the leopard.

Not a sound had been uttered--beyond the first hissing of the snake--not
a word said; the whole scene had been horrible and eerie beyond the
power of words to describe, in its weird setting of moonlit forest, and
cliff and rugged spur. What devilish scene was this which had been
enacted there, all in so brief a space of time that the witness thereof
could hardly believe he had not dreamt it? Though not in the least
timid, Wyvern was an imaginative man, and his imaginative powers were
largely stimulated and fostered by his solitary life. Now he asked
himself whether the wretched savage had really returned to earth--in a
word--"walked," and there in the wild and moonlit solitude the answer
seemed very like an affirmative. He recalled Lalante's scare when they
had been searching for the remains of this very being, and how no trace
of any living thing had been apparent, even to Le Sage's practised eyes.
What did it all mean? Well, it need concern him no further, for in a
day or two his interest in Seven Kloofs would be a thing of the past.
And having thus decided, a sudden and, under the circumstances, strange
drowsiness came upon him and he slept.

The Southern Cross turned in the heavens, and the soft breaths of night
played around his forehead and still Wyvern slumbered on, and in the
midst of that drear but beautiful solitude he dreamed. He was back at
Seven Kloofs again, and, once more, it was his very own. All anxieties
were wiped away, and they were rejoicing together in the joy of
possession, and in their new-found, undimmed happiness--and then, and
then--the stars faded in the lightening vault as the chill dawn awoke
the sleeper, heart-weary and sick with the melting of the blissful
illusion. But--what was this?

A strange sound, terminating in a sort of whine. Keen and alert now,
Wyvern peered forth, just as the great leopard halted beneath, finishing
his cavernous yawn, and looking inquiringly upward where scent or
instinct told him some enemy was lurking. But just a