"Well," said Apache, softly—I was treading almost on his heels and Donoghue was close behind me—"twigs don't snap of their own accord like that in mid-summer."
We kept on, however, not hastening our steps at all, but at the same even, steady pace, and suddenly again in the stillness—"Crack!"
Again a branch or twig had snapped near by in the thick woods through which we could not see.
CHAPTER XVII
The Coming of Mike Canlan
here was a cold shiver ran in my spine at that second crack, for it was eerie to know that some live thing, man or beast, was following us up through the bushes.
"It's a lion, sure thing," Donoghue said behind me, "and it's goin' at this stalking of us darned careless, too. I wisht we could get to a clear place and give him a chance to show himself."
"Lion?" asked I, astonished.
"Yes—panther, that is," said Apache Kid.