![]() ![]() ![]() Rage burned redly in his bloodshot eyes as he turned once more and hurried along the path, which, as it left the glade, ran along the edge of a dense thicket that rose in a solid clump of greenery among the trees and bushes. He was a Cimmerian and understood the voices of the wilderness as a city-bred man understands the voices of his friends. To another man it would have seemed merely the howl of a wolf. Halfway across the glade he stopped short and whirled, catlike, facing back the way he had come, as a long-drawn call quavered out across the forest. He limped slightly as he followed the dim path that led across the open space. ![]() Under his matted black mane his face was drawn and gaunt, and his eyes burned like the eyes of a wounded panther. A brown- crusted bandage was knotted about his thickly-muscled left arm. He was naked except for a rag twisted about his loins, and his limbs were criss-crossed with scratches from briars, and caked with dried mud. For all his massive, muscular build he moved with the supple certitude of a panther. Then he stalked across the glade, placing his feet with care. ![]() The man scowled and glanced quickly back the way he had come, as if fearing their flight had betrayed his position to some one unseen. But the gay-hued birds that flitted about in the sunshine of the open space took fright at his sudden appearance and rose in a clamoring cloud. There had been no sound to warn the grey squirrels of his coming. ONE moment the glade lay empty the next, a man stood poised warily at the edge of the bushes. ![]()
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