Almost immediately followed a frightful din of growls and wauling. There were certain deep gutturals and mouthings that Grenville was sure his tiger only could produce. There were sounds of a conflict, fierce and bloody, retreating down the trail. Like a battle of cats, enormously exaggerated, with screams and roars intermingled, the disturbance rose on the air. But Grenville had blocked his gate with logs and bowlders, and calmly returned to his place. Elaine was crouching by the fire when he came once more to the terrace. She had called him in vain, and was visibly trembling as his form appeared within the glow. "What was it?" she cried. "What has happened?" "Why--it sounds like a couple of jungle politicians engaged in a tariff argument." "You weren't down there?" "I strolled to the wall, to make sure it was closed for the night." "There was nothing--up here? I dreamed there was something--fighting with you--some terrible creature--like that." She waved her hand towards the hideous sounds, retreating swiftly in the darkness. "Can't understand such a dream," he said. "We've had no corned beef and cabbage. You'd better go back and try again." He started at once for his pottery fire, in his brusque, indifferent manner. Elaine stood there, watching his figure, retreating in the darkness, and made no move to retire. Like a dim silhouette of Vulcan, projected against the reddened glare of his furnace, he presently appeared, from the place where she eagerly kept him in her vision. She felt she could not bear to creep away until he should return. She saw him stand for a little time observing his waning heaps of embers before he faced about to return once more to his seat. Then, slowly, as she heard his footsteps approaching, she glided silently back to her shelter, and so at length within the door. Even then she lingered eagerly, to make certain he was not far away. Until he sat down, and stirred up the flames, she did not return to her couch. "To be so perfectly fearless!" she murmured, half aloud, and so crept away to her dark, uncomfortable cave. Grenville pocketed the documents, still lying face up on his rock. He finally slept beside the fire, to finish his plans in dreams. These plans, which were vague enough that night, matured fairly early in the morning. He had resolved to try for the tiger at the spring. Fully expecting to encounter abundant signs of the animal conflict of the midnight hours, he descended the trail before Elaine had appeared, intent upon removing such evidence of trouble as might be found disturbingly near their tower. There was nothing at all along the trail to show that a fight had taken place. Where the grass and shrubbery began in the clearing below the walls, there was one mere tuft of hair upon a twig. But a rod removed from this there was at least a hint as to what might have caused the engagement.