It was faint and very far, more like a quaver brought down upon the wind, but the ring of eyes drew back into the forest, and then, when the quaver came a second time, the rabbits and the deer fled, not to return.

The lips of the wild cat contracted into a snarl, but his courage was only of the moment, he scampered away and he did not stop until he had gone a full mile.

Then he swiftly climbed the tallest tree that he could find, and hid in its top.
The ring of eyes was gone, as the ring of fire had died, but Henry and Paul slept on, although there was full need for them to be awake.

The long, distant quaver, like a whine, but with something singularly ferocious in its note came again on the wind, and, far away, a score of forms, phantom and dusky, in the shadow were running fast, with low, slim bodies, and outstretched nostrils that had in them a grateful odor of food, soon to come.
Nature had given to Henry Ware a physical mechanism of great strength, but as delicate as that of a watch.

Any jar to the wheels and springs was registered at once by the minute hand of his brain.