Then a leaf sailed past the tent, and he knew what tree it came from as it touched the earth, and strained his ears the more, wondering what he listened for, as he, and others of his kind, had done in the bush before.  It could be, he almost felt, nothing material, and yet, though they did not move now, he knew the horses were also listening.  That had its meaning, for man cannot measure his keenest senses with those of the beasts of the field.  The little breeze awoke again, and shook fantastic harmonies out of the shivering trees, and one horse stamped.  The other wheeled and snorted, and Alton sprang back into the tent, as somewhere in the bushes there commenced a sound that suggested the snarling of a great cat.  It was possibly unfortunate he was not a trifle less prompt, because otherwise he might have noticed something slightly unusual in the sound.

As it was, however, he fell over Okanagan Tom, who being a very similar man to him, and not as yet wholly awake, asked no questions but gripped him silently, and proceeded to crush the breath out of him.  Alton was sinewy, but he was almost choking before he freed one hand, and drove it into a tender portion of his assailant’s frame.  Then with a little laugh Tom of Okanagan flung him across the tent.

“Great Columbus!  It’s good I found out in time,” he said.

Alton was almost speechless still, and, while he gasped, the object he had fallen on moved strenuously beneath him.

“You might get up,” it said.  “It’s a somewhat unprotected place you’re sitting on.”

“Confound you both,” said Alton.  “Hand me the rifle.”

Seaforth afterwards remembered that he did not ask where the rifle was, which would have been the question put by most men, and as he held it out felt the stock touch Alton’s hand.  Then there was a little rattle, and as Seaforth floundered to his feet a weird snarling cry broke out.  Alton was out of the tent in a moment, but Seaforth afterwards recalled the fact that they were all moving when he heard the sound, and Tom of Okanagan apparently groping for his axe and throwing things about.  He also decided that it might have been better if one had sat still and listened, but it is not given to human beings to always do the most appropriate thing.

Alton instinctively avoided the tent-line nearest the opening, which was unfortunate, because the peg had drawn a trifle, and Seaforth had moved it after his comrade had driven it.  It therefore came about that the line was not where he had last seen it, and he went down headlong, while the rifle rolled away from him.  Just there, there was a rush and a drumming of hoofs, and before Alton could pick himself up the horses were sweeping in a panic through the shadowy bush.

“Anything the worse, Harry?” said Seaforth.  “We had better get off at once while there’s the sound to guide us.”

Alton laughed softly, as he did now and then when he might have been disconcerted.  “I can’t beat a Cayuse, Charley, and I don’t think you’ll hear them very long,” he said.