"No, but I can keep out of the way of them all. Why, just when I found you, I was having a game with two or three of them at once. I see, and scent them too, long before they are near me—long before they can see or scent me."
"You don't see or scent any now, do you?" said Photogen, uneasily, rising on his elbow.
"No—none at present. I will look," replied Nycteris, and sprang to her feet.
"Oh! oh! do not leave me—not for a moment," cried Photogen, straining his eyes to keep her face in sight through the darkness.
"Be quiet, or they will hear you," she returned. "The wind is from the south, and they can not scent us. I have found out all about that. Ever since the dear dark came I have been amusing myself with them, getting every now and then just into the edge of the wind, and letting one have a sniff of me."
"Oh, horrible!" cried Photogen. "I hope you will not insist on doing so any more. What was the consequence?"
"Always, the very instant, he turned with flashing eyes, and bounded toward me—only he could not see me, you must remember. But my eyes being so much better than his, I could see him perfectly well, and would run away round him until I scented him, and then I knew he could not find me anyhow. If the wind were to turn, and run the other way now, there might be a whole army of them down upon us, leaving no room to keep out of their way. You had better come."
She took him by the hand. He yielded and rose, and she led him away. But his steps were feeble, and as the night went on, he seemed more and more ready to sink.
"Oh dear! I am so tired! and so frightened!" he would say.
"Lean on me," Nycteris would return, putting her arm round him, or patting his cheek. "Take a few steps more. Every step away from the castle is clear gain. Lean harder on me. I am quite strong and well now."