He thought of no other words but those, and advanced bit by bit as he called them gently again and again.

Now he was within ten feet of the old man, now eight, presently he was so near that he might have reached him in a single leap.

Then he stopped.
The mad hunter laid down his fish.

Slowly he retreated, murmuring incoherent sounds in his beard, then sprang to his feet and with a wailing cry sped back toward the pool.

Swiftly Rod followed.