Page:They who walk in the wilds, (IA theywhowalkinwil00robe).pdf/38

 tening to the rustle of mice in the hay, and watching the long bright streak of dusty sunlight that came through the cracks in the warped board of the barn. Presently he heard the sound of wheels, of trotting hoofs. He pricked up his ears eagerly. How often, on the ranch, had such sounds meant the return of Merivale from a trip to the station! He heard the wagon stop—his ears told him exactly where—outside the other barn. He heard a man jump out. He heard the hollow noises of horse and wagon being led in onto the barn floor. A few moments later a man came into view, striding towards the kitchen door—a tall man, like Merivale, wearing an old brown slouch hat much like Merivale's, and carrying a gun and a brace of partridges. Mishi wrenched his head from its too-loose collar of rope, and went bounding hopefully forth to greet the new arrival.

At sight of the huge tawny beast leaping towards him so swiftly, an anguish of hideous question flashed through the man's mind in the fraction of a second, and turned his blood to ice. Where were the children? Where was his wife? Why was the house so deathly quiet? He whipped the gun to his shoulder. The great beast was within a dozen feet of him. But even as his finger pressed the trigger, the little girl, with a wild scream of, "Don't, Daddy, it's our good lion," sprang upon his arm from behind—and the