Scotty shrugged his shoulders, as Sid led on with his rifle poised for instant action. In Sid’s present mood there was no use urging ordinary plain caution. Scotty, however, scanned the cliffs and trees about them warily. He wanted to make sure that no panther lurked up on some limb, to spring on them unawares as is the habit of the leopard in the East. Sid halted at the edge of the inner wall. “_Woof!_” he called, shying a stone into the dark recesses of the cave. “Hi!--Come out and let’s look at you!” he taunted. But there was not a sound or a movement from those impenetrable depths. “Good business!” ejaculated Sid. “Nobody home. That means he’s out after his daily sheep, and the dogs’ll get a fresh track.” Scotty was not so sure. He looked around cautiously, unmindful of Sid’s amused sniffs. The tall boy led him over to show him the pueblo of the Old People, but even then, before its mouth Scotty hesitated, with rifle cocked, before venturing to peer down. He could bear the reproach in Sid’s eyes unblushingly, for to him Sid seemed casehardened, foolhardy almost. His own cave man within him was no such subdued creature as Sid’s, but was alert and tense as a deer, for a subtle sixth sense persisted in warning him that _something_ lurked around that pueblo that was a deadly menace. It might be imagination; it might be a finer instinct for danger; or possibly some indistinguishable taint in the air that would have been plain as day to the nostrils of our ancestors. Disregarding Sid’s taunting protests, Scotty kept his rifle cocked and his body on hair trigger, ready to turn or spring aside or leap into instant action at the first hint of warning. Sid turned away from him in amused disdain and sat down ruggedly on the outer wall, his ear cocked for the first distant bay of the hounds. It was broad daylight, now, with the sun perhaps two hours high, and the chase was due to arrive any minute. “Gorry! It’s funny we don’t hear them!” exclaimed Sid, impatiently, after perhaps fifteen minutes of waiting, his eyes scanning the opposite rim impatiently. Scotty nerved himself to speak out what was in his mind. It was the brave thing to do--morally brave--and he did it. “Suppose, Sid, the Black Panther heard us coming, and just sneaked out of his lair,--and is prowling about here _now_----” An impatient shrug of Sid’s shoulders stopped him. “Scotty, you’re nervous,” he said, solicitously. “Never let yourself get that way, or you won’t be able to shoot---- By George!--There’s Ruler, now!”