At intervals of a few minutes he pressed his ear to the earth as before, and listened closely. The second time he did so he was certain the peculiar sounds were more distinct; but, waiting a brief while, he tried it again, and concluded they were neither louder nor fainter.
“They can’t be standing still,” was his logical conclusion, “and must soon come nearer or go further off.”
Only a few minutes were required to settle the question: the cattle were receding, and doing so with such rapidity, that, much sooner than would have been suspected, the sounds had died out altogether.
CHAPTER VII.
AN INTRUDER IN CAMP.
THE minutes pass slowly at such times, and, though Herbert’s duty lasted only two hours, they seemed double the length of that period during the day, or when his companions were awake.
The listening ear caught no further sounds of the multitudinous feet, and he dismissed the matter from his mind. The still air now and then was moved by what seemed a slight breeze, or eddy of wind, but it was barely sufficient to stir the blaze. Once he heard the report of a gun, startlingly distinct, though he knew it might have been fired fully a mile away.
“We are not the only people in this part of the world,” he mused, giving expression to his reveries; “and that shot may have ended the life of some person.”