He could hear the beating of his heart, and the innumerable creeping sounds that seemed to have no origin.  He was about to shout, when again he heard a thin cry, and, suppressing the shout, he began to advance cautiously from tree to tree, planting his steps carefully.  In the soft mould he saw now the footmarks left by Venning as he had hurried, the print of his heel at one spot, a little further on a broken branch, and next, some dislodged moss from a huge tree.  He peered round this, examining the ground ahead, then stepped out into a little clearing, across which Venning had walked.  He started as he looked down, then threw up his gun, with a quick glance round, for on the ground, side by side with the footprints, were the pugs of a lion or leopard.

Venning was in danger, then!  With an involuntary action he pressed his hat down firmly on his head, then moved forward, swiftly and silently, to another tree beyond.  Looking round this, he saw at once through the twining tendrils the form of an animal, moving slowly, with flattened ears and twitching tail.

This did not surprise him, for he was prepared by the spoor; but what surprised him was to see that the brute was advancing towards him—­not retreating.  For a moment he felt sick at the thought that he was too late, that his friend had been already attacked, and that the beast had left Venning for the new-comer.

The brute was unmistakably stalking some one.  Its body was stretched out, the forearms reaching out in long stealthy strides, the round head sunk low, with a fixed snarl that bared the white teeth.  A leopard it was in form, but without the black rosettes on a grey ground, the colour being of a uniform yellow along the sides, with black markings down the muscular shoulders, and a streak of white from the throat under the belly.  The eyes were large, and of a greenish hue.  They were fixed in a steadfast stare on some spot to the left.  Compton glanced in that direction, and, to his joy, he saw Venning, alive, seated with his chin on his breast, and his back to a fallen stump.  As Compton looked, the boy’s eyes opened, and his head turned as if he had heard some noise.

Compton’s distress left him.  A feeling of great thankfulness swept over him when he saw that he was not too late, that his friend lived; and with firm nerves he stepped clear of the tree to shoot.  The movement caught the notice of the leopard.  It had crouched down as Venning turned, but now it lifted its round head to view the new-comer.  With a low growl it made a sudden leap forward, covering an incredible distance, which brought it nearer to Compton, and as it gathered itself together he fired, then sprang aside.  There was a rush through the air, a thud, and a tearing noise.  There, almost within reach of him, with the blood running over its face from a scalp-wound, and its fore-paws tearing the moss from a tree, was the leopard; and, swift as thought, Compton fired from his hip at the shoulder.  The leopard rolled over, growling, then tried to drag itself by its powerful paws towards Compton, its mouth wide open.  He fired again, into the gaping jaws, the muscles relaxed, the beast fell, and he ran towards Venning.