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.