CHAPTER XV

THE GOLDEN IMAGE

For a moment the young inventor felt a cold chill run down his spine, and, while his hair did not actually “stand up” there was a queer sensation on his scalp as if the hairs wanted to stand on end, but couldn’t quite manage it.

Involuntarily Tom started, and one of the sticks he held in his hand dropped to the ground.  The green eyes shifted—­they came nearer, and the lad heard a menacing growl.  Then he knew it was some wild animal that had dropped down from a tree and was now confronting him, ready to spring on the instant.

Tom hardly knew what to do.  He realized that if he moved it might precipitate an attack on him, and he found himself dimly wondering, as he stood there, what sort of an animal it was.

He had about come to the conclusion that it was something between a cougar and a mountain lion, and the next thought that came to him was a wonder whether any one else in the camp was awake, and would come to his rescue.

He half turned his head to look, when again there came that menacing growl, and the animal came a step nearer.  Evidently every movement Tom made aroused the beast’s antagonism, and made him more eager to come to the attack.

“I’ve got to keep my eyes on him,” mused the lad.  “I wonder if there’s any truth in the old stories that you can subdue a wild beast with your eyes—­by glaring at him.  But whether that’s so or not, I’ve got to do it—­keep looking him in the face, for that’s all I can do.”

True, Tom held in his hand some light sticks, but if it came to a fight they would be useless.  His gun was back in the tent, and as far as he could learn by listening there was not another soul in the camp awake.

Suddenly the fire, which had almost died out, flared up, as a dying blaze sometimes will, and in the bright glare the young inventor was able to see what sort of beast confronted him.  He saw the tawny, yellow body, the twitching tail, the glaring eyes and the cruel teeth all too plainly, and he made up his mind that it was some species of the cougar family.  Then the embers flared out and it was darker than before.  But it was not so dark but what Tom could still see the glaring eyes.

“I’ve got to get away from him—­scare him—­or shoot him,” the lad decided on the instant.  “I’d like to bowl him over with a bullet, but how can I get my gun?”

He thought rapidly.  The gun was in the tent back of him, near where he had been sleeping.  It was fully loaded.

“I’ve got to get it,” reflected Tom, and then he dropped the other sticks in his hand.  Once more the beast growled and came a step nearer—­soft, stealthy steps they were, too, making no sound on the ground.

Then Tom started to make a cautious retreat backwards, the while keeping his eyes focused on those of the beast.  He made up his mind that he would give that “hypnotism” theory a trial, at any rate.