For a moment neither stirred but each gazed at the other, David in surprise and consternation, the Indian with an air of resentment at having been discovered. Then the latter advanced a step menacingly and raised the bow to the level of his shoulders. David’s hand flew to the holster on his belt and a shot, aimed high, rang out clear and sharp in the silent forest. The Indian gave a wild yell, sprang to one side and dashed away. The thud of his feet and the swishing of the branches were ample proof that he had no intention of stopping in the near vicinity. “I guess that fixed him for the present,” thought David; “but I’ll have to hurry; he might come back with others and then it would not be so easy to scare away the whole pack.” A hundred yards up the trail he stopped, slipped the pack off his back, and hid it in a mass of ferns growing between the buttressed roots of a great tree. After that he could walk more rapidly. When another hour had passed he noticed that the forest was becoming more open in character. The trees were further apart and the sunlight found its way to the ground in numerous splashes and pools of bright light. About the same time he heard the call of a bird--the first sign of animal life on all that long, solitary tramp. It was fortunate that he saw the author of the sound, for it was a shrill, quavering note that was unearthly and weird in the extreme. The bird was of the shape and size of a guinea hen, but of a rich brown color. It ran out into the trail just ahead of him and stood looking at the man with bright, black eyes until he was nearly upon it, when it flew away with a loud whirr of wings. It was a poor flyer, however, for although it hurtled through the air at great speed, its course was erratic; it darted one way, then another, until it dashed against a tree-trunk and fell to the ground, where it lay fluttering. David started toward it, but before he had covered half the distance separating him from the now quiet creature a lithe form sprang out of the cover on one side of the path, picked up the bird in its mouth and darted out of view again. The marauder was of the cat family and spotted like a leopard, though not so large. Its sudden appearance gave David a start, for it proved that there was life in the silent forest in spite of the hush that prevailed. Unseen eyes and keen ears were about him; it required only the proper combination of circumstances to bring the creatures from their hiding-places. This thought was far from comforting and the lone wanderer redoubled his vigilance in an effort to forestall a surprise attack on himself. At last the forest gave way to a scrubby growth, and this was soon replaced by open country; that is, it seemed open in comparison to the jungle through which David had just passed.