Then
he began to creep through the grass with a swift easy gliding motion
like that of a serpent, moving at a speed remarkable in such a position
and quite soundless. He went a full half mile before he stopped and rose
to his knees, and then his face was hidden by the bushes, although the
eyes still searched every part of the forest.
His look was now wholly changed. He might be the hunted, but he bore
himself as the hunter. All vestige of the civilized man, trained to
humanity and mercy, was gone. Those who wished to kill were seeking him
and he would kill in return. The thin lips were slightly drawn back,
showing the line of white teeth, the eyes were narrowed and in them was
the cold glitter of expected conflict. Brown hands, lean but big-boned
and powerful, clasped a rifle having a long slender barrel and a
beautifully carved stock. It was a figure, terrible alike in its
manifestation of physical power and readiness, and in the fierce eye
that told what quality of mind lay behind it.
He sank down again and moved in a small circle to the right. His
original thrill of joy was now a permanent emotion; he was like some one
playing an exciting game into which no thought of danger entered.
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