Compton, rolling up his sleeves, cut down saplings, and Venning built a low roof, using the long tendrils of the creepers to bind it.  Then the spaces in between the trunks were filled in, and large chunks of tinder were cut out of a fallen tree and placed at the entrance, a fire of dry wood being made in a hole inside.  There was enough water in their flasks for a “billy” of tea, and by the time they had finished their meal the darkness was on them.  No sooner had they settled down to watch than their foe was down, sniffing out the position, and they were thankful they had acted in time.  They beard it at the back first, then overhead, and next at the side, its presence indicated by low growls.  Then it was in the front, and Compton fired at a momentary gleam of two luminous spots.  It bounded right on the roof, which shook to its weight, then clawed up a tree, detaching fragments of moss, and again leapt to the ground, emitting this time a ferocious roar.  It seemed as if its long patience were exhausted, and that it was lashing itself into a fury, for it was here and there with lightning quickness, striking blows at the fence, and at times seizing a branch in its teeth, but so quick that they could not move their weapons smartly enough to cover the point of attack.

It was nervous work for the watchers.  Every moment they expected to find themselves under the claws and teeth of the maddened beast, with the odds all against them, for in such a small enclosure they would be helpless.  It was bad enough when the brute was emitting his terrible roars and screams, but the spells of silence were worse.

In one of these spells Venning felt for the raw skin of the slaughtered leopard, and threw it out into the darkness.  There were stealthy footsteps, the noise of sniffing, followed by the sound of an animal rolling on the ground, and they fired together.  With a snarl the leopard bounded right to the very mouth of the opening, knocking over the smouldering tinder and sending out a shower of sparks.  Venning fired.  Compton lunged forward with his big knife, and the leopard leapt aside.

“Hit him that time, I bet,” muttered Venning, who was shaking with excitement.

Then followed a weary time of waiting in complete silence, broken only by the soft melancholy murmur of the forest.  They refilled the magazines of their carbines, built up the tinder fire, and stretched their ears to catch the first warning note of danger.  Then the whisperings swarmed in upon them.  A creak of a branch, the turn of a leaf, the scraping of creeping insects, the whizzing of moths, and the murmur of the forest, all seemed to them the whisperings of stealthy foes.  Every now and again they moistened their lips, which dried after the repeated spells during which they held their breath, while intently listening for the footfalls of the enemy.

Then, with a feeling of relief, they heard an unmistakable wouf!  That, at least, was a tangible sound—­the sound of a startled animal.