Page:Dave Porter in the Gold Fields.djvu/302

284 uncertain had taken both his wind and his strength, and he was panting, and his knees shook beneath him. Only a short time had elapsed since that dreadful first shock had come, yet to the youth it seemed an age.

He looked at the torch. It had burned well down and would not last much longer. And when it was gone he would be left in total darkness!

This was a new cause for fear, and it made Dave move around faster than ever.

Suddenly he stopped short. A new sound had reached his ears—a strange, weird sound that made his flesh creep and his hair stand on end.

It was the cry of a wildcat—shrill and uncanny in that pent-up space. Slowly it came nearer, although from what direction our hero could not at first make out.

He waited behind a spur of rocks and the cry—it was more a whine of fright than anything else—came closer. Then, on a shelf of rocks but a short distance away, Dave caught sight of the beast.

It was limping along on three feet, dragging a bleeding hind leg and a bleeding tail behind it. Evidently it had been caught between the falling stones as in a trap and had pulled itself loose in a mad effort to save its life.

For the moment Dave forgot his other perils as he faced the beast. Evidently the wildcat had