THE TREE-LION The next day they came to the end of the trail that Muata had followed with the river-man; but the scent was still on the ground, and for a mile or so the jackal led the way, slinking along like a shadow with his nose down and his bushy tail drooping.

Then he stopped, and, after a look up into the face of his master, stretched himself out, as much as to say his part was over.
"They have gained on us," said Mr.Hume.
"They rose early and travelled fast," said Muata.

"The scent is cold, but there is the trail marked on the tree;" and he pointed to a slight cut in the bark, from which had oozed a thick juice, now caked hard.
"Some one pierced the bark." "It is the sign of the wise woman, and she made it, maybe, with a wire from her armlets." They went on more slowly, guided only by the faint cuts at intervals on tree-trunks, all of which "bled," giving out a milky sap; and then again the sign failed.

About them were the trees in endless columns, overhead was the roof of leaves, and on the ground was a tangle of undergrowth and decaying vegetation, that gave out a moist earthy smell, which set the lungs labouring for oxygen.

The boys were uncomfortable.