But now Roger seemed to feel the deadly fear leaving him, and he almost rejoiced in the thought of the battle that was to come, even though he knew it was likely to result badly for himself. He had passed through the first scrimmage and, like a soldier who has once been under fire, he almost wished for another skirmish in the struggle. He watched the animal with sharp eyes and was glad to find the light increasing, as the moon rose more above the trees, though the leaves through which the beams came made uncertain shadows. Then the boy detected some movement on the part of the beast and saw that the cat, instead of crouching for another spring, had crawled out on the log toward the end that was in deepest gloom. "I wonder what he's up to now?" said Roger, softly. He could hear the brute leap on the soft wood-carpet of moss and dried leaves, and then the grayish body seemed to fade away. But Roger knew the animal had not left him. It was trying to sneak up behind him, so as to leap on his back, he felt, and the boy turned to face in that direction. As he did so he heard a noise near the log where the cat had just been crouching, and he turned quickly to catch a glimpse of the long slender form passing rapidly by in the semi-darkness. For a moment Roger was puzzled, and then it came to him like a flash. The beast was racing about him in a circle! He did not know what to do, and while he hesitated sorely alarmed, with the fear tugging at his heart again, the cat passed in front of him once more. Only this time the animal was farther from the log and nearer to the boy. Roger knew that the brute would narrow the circles until it was close enough to spring at him, and, under these circumstances, it was impossible to tell from which point the dangerous leap might come. Surely the boy was in grave danger now, and he felt it keenly. He backed up close against the tree, but this was scarcely any protection, as the trunk was not large enough. Yet he dared not leave it to seek another. The cat continued to run about him in ever smaller curves. Roger raised his club and waited in an agony of suspense--waited to see the tense body come sailing toward him--waited to feel the sharp claws and cruel teeth. Up to this moment he had held the club in one hand, but, thinking to use it with greater force, he now took hold with both right and left. As he did so, he noticed that in his left hand he still held his knife. He was about to cast it from him, not wanting to risk putting it in his pocket, when his fingers touched something that seemed to be caught in the slot-like opening of the handle where the blades went. The knife was a two-bladed one, but the smaller bit of steel had been broken off, and, where this should have fitted Roger was conscious that something had lodged in the handle. He hurriedly felt of it. It was a match!