“I cannot shake him off. He tracks me like a bloodhound,” Jack informed his companion, in a whisper.
“The meddlesome fool!” replied Rutley. “If he will not stop following you—why—he carries his life in his hands.”
“No, no! Not that. We don’t want any killing in ours, Phil, anything but that. Who is he?”
“Sam Harris. I saw him follow Virginia and was sure he would run foul of you.”
“The simpleton is harmless anyway. He is moving to the fence. See him? Hist!”
After studying the wild growth for a few moments, Sam decided to approach it by way of the fence. There he suddenly dropped to his knees and crept noiselessly—very close beside the fence, toward the tangle. As he neared it he could make out its black cavernous recesses. Twice he paused, his eyes strained with the utmost tension of watchfulness against a surprise, for he now fully believed that the man he was attempting to shadow was a desperate character.
However, he crept nearer, hardly stirring a blade of grass, so cautious was his progress—so silent his movements. He listened intently, scarcely breathing, lest its sound should betray his presence. His hands gently touched a vine to part the leaves—instantly he was greeted with a hiss and a rattle, and then something glittered close to his eyes, which in the moment of his startled alarm he believed to be the glitter of a reptile’s fangs. It caused him to bolt suddenly with a panicky feeling at his heart, and then it brought from Jack a soft chuckle of merriment.
“He’s not as plucky as the girl. We must throw him off the scent at any cost,” whispered Rutley, “or we will be trapped.” Suddenly he laid his hand on Jack’s arm and continued with a low, sardonic laugh: “I have it, Jack. You lead him down on the Barnes road; I’ll meet him there,” and without any further delay Rutley slipped down the steep slope to his automobile, which lay in the deep shadow of the canyon walls, a little further to the west, where he waited with the evil purpose in his heart for the climax.
Sam was no coward. He had faced dangerous situations fearlessly, but that hiss and rattle, in the stillness of a dark, lonely and forbidding place, fairly raised his hair, and lent a lightness to his feet that amazed him, when he halted and noted the distance covered in the few moments of his flight.
“One of those deadly reptiles got out of the park zoo,” he thought, “sneaked his way into that jungle—I guess so!” and he wiped the beads of perspiration from his face as he added aloud: “An almighty close call! But,” and he looked up at the dark sky, and then around and about, and as gathering confidence returned to him, continued: “I shall not give up yet, not yet. I guess not.”