The man spoke with intensity; yet not a motion gave the officer hope of his chance to spring on him. The man’s nerves were of steel; he held the rifle as though it and his own body were of stone; yet the glittering eyes showed his victim that if he dropped his hands a bullet would end his career on the instant. “But, you know, _I_ haven’t harmed you, my poor man,” said the officer. “All mankind are my foes,” said the Mad Hunter, in his strong monotone, and without moving. “Come! the night draws near, and I have yet to travel many miles to my cave in the mountains.” “Don’t let me detain you, old man,” said the officer. “Won’t it do just as well another day?” “Come! prepare to die. If you have prayers to say, repeat them quickly. It is growing dark.” Now, the officer didn’t care how dark it got before the madman fired. Indeed, he would have been glad if it suddenly became pitch-dark--so dark that he might dodge away and escape the sinister weapon which held its “bead” on his breast. He gave up all hope of “talking the fellow out of it.” The madman meant to kill him, and unless some miracle averted the fate, he would very quickly be a dead man! The madman was a giant in build and strength. He remembered now having heard the scouts tell many strange stories of the Mad Hunter about the camp-fire. For years he had been tracking about the Rockies, appearing unexpectedly in first one locality and then another; sometimes committing atrocious murders of inoffensive people. But usually his presence was noted by the scouts by the dead bodies of Indians, their bodies mutilated by a cross gashed with the madman’s knife over their hearts. He put this insignia upon every redskin he killed, so that even the savages--who feared him as some spirit and altogether supernatural--knew who to lay the death of their friends to when the Mad Hunter was about. Whether the giant had a habit of marking his white victims in the same way, the captain did not know; but it was a suggestion that did not tranquilize his nerves. To cope with the giant he knew would be impossible. He was a tall and strong man himself; but the maniac could have handled three men like the officer with ease. A movement toward his revolver or sword would be a signal for his death. Yet the officer could not stand here helplessly and allow the maniac to shoot him down! In full view below him were the camp-fires of his men. The valley had grown dark now, but surely they could see him clearly standing here on the summit of the ridge. His body must loom big against the sky-line. Yet it was plain they did not see the giant with him. _He_ stood in the shadow of the thicket where he had hidden at the officer’s approach. It was behind him, and made him invisible to the men in the valley. To call for aid would bring the end more quickly. So he waited in silence, hoping against hope that some mad freak of the maniac’s mind and humor might work for his salvation.