As the flames died down, they advanced as by a given signal.

He kept on adding to the fires until his fingers, groping for fresh reeds, found none, and the sweat broke out on his forehead.

In one hour at least there would not be light enough from the smouldering heaps for him to see a mark, and then--something had to be done! No doubt the watchful eyes saw the sign of fear in his face.

At once the circle closed in, and this time he could see that several of the dogs were not sitting, but standing, as if ready for the final spring.

He fingered a cartridge, then suddenly flung it into the topmost heap of glowing ash.