This last thought aroused his fading hopes and he resumed his search along new lines, chopping the dirt floor with his ax until not a spot near the cave-mouth remained untouched. His efforts were of no avail. Neither stone nor treasure came to light. This was the wrong cave.
Nothing remained to be done but leave and rejoin the Mammoth and Rhinoceros. It suddenly occurred to him that it was high time he was so doing. Night was drawing to a close and the hyenas would soon return. He stepped to the cave-mouth, then as quickly stepped back again at sight of some animals coming up the valley. His foot encountered an obstacle. His ax flew from his hand and he fell heavily upon its upturned edge.
A sharp pain shot through the rear of his thigh where the keen flint had inflicted a deep gash. He was up again in a moment, clutching the wound with one hand to stop the flow of blood. His injury although painful was not disabling. The hyenas were returning and it was necessary—for his own safety—that he be not caught intruding in their den.
He descended the slope with all possible haste, leaving a trail of blood-stains on the rocks behind him. He arrived at the foot of the slope none too soon. The hyenas were but a few paces distant. They came on growling and sniffing the air. Pic raised his ax and prepared to defend himself; whereupon they held back and showed no intention of proceeding further.
Pic retreated a step; the hyenas followed. He took several more steps and the foul beasts kept pace with him; halting when he halted; advancing as he retreated, threatening but ever hesitating to close in. None of them showed any interest in the cave. Not one climbed up the slope. It might be time to go home; but they were hungry. They smelled blood in the air and on the ground. Pic’s wound was not a dangerous one, but it gave promise; the odor of blood was alluring and so the hyenas followed. The Rhinoceros had proven a grievous disappointment; but now the scent of an injured man filled them with renewed hope.
Pic’s position was becoming decidedly unpleasant. He was being hounded by a pack of ferocious brutes who dared not attack him openly but who were prepared to take advantage of any opportunity offered them. He made off up the valley and the hyenas trailed behind at a respectful distance.
Their uncanny attention and particularly their persistence filled him with growing alarm. He was beginning to feel weary and faint; but to lie down; to lose his senses even for a few moments, meant death. His enemies were now gradually closing in; behind and on both sides. If they kept on, he would soon be completely surrounded. He must seek refuge among the rocks, in a cave or some place where he could defend himself without danger of attack from the rear. He scanned the cliffs—and there before him loomed a great rock which thrust its rugged flanks far into the valley. His heart quickened with renewed hope. It was the Rock of Moustier.
“Once I reach the grotto, I can make a stand against these beasts,” he encouraged himself; “unless”—and his spirits fell again like lead—“the Lion is there.”
However he must take his chance on that score. Things could not long continue as they were. A night of fruitless tramping up and down the valley was rapidly driving his enemies to desperation. Hyenas might be patient but even their patience could not forever endure the protests of empty stomachs. They quickened their pace and pressed on more closely. Some of them grew bold enough to walk ahead of him on either side.
The party drew up before the base of Moustier. Pic took a deep breath, grit his teeth and began the ascent. The hyenas hesitated, then followed after him. As he neared the middle terrace and came within sight of the grotto, he paused. For him, this was the turning-point—a situation fraught with fearful consequence. If the Lion were at home, he was lost—caught between two fires and hopelessly overmatched; but if the cave were unoccupied, he could make his stand in the entrance and fight off those who trailed behind him. All depended upon whether the grotto was or was not now occupied by its fierce tenant.