a moment of absolute silence, while two tiny golden eyes,
measured the distance for a leap.

The young man now, with the cunning born of a mad instinct for life, was
waiting with bent knees, body slightly leaning forward and eyes fixed
upon the brute. He had unwound the cloak from round his arm and held it
in front of him like a shield. The man and the beast watched one another
thus for a few seconds, and to many those few seconds seemed like an
eternity.

Then with a snarl the panther bounded forward. The man held his ground
for the space of one second, and as the brute landed within an arm's
length of him, quick as lightning he threw his cloak right in its face.
Then he began to run. The panther, entangled in the folds of the cloak,
savage and snarling, was tearing it to pieces, but Hortensius ran and
ran, driven by the blind sense of self-preservation. He ran and ran the
whole length of the arena, skirted the oval at the eastern end, and
still continued to run, with elbows firmly held to his hips and with
swift winged steps that made no sound in the sand.

But already the creature, realising that again it was being cheated,
started in pursuit. With leaps and bounds that seemed erratic and
purposeless, it gradually diminished the distance between itself and the
running man. Once it alighted on the outstanding branch of a gnarled
tree, then from thence it took shelter in a clump of shrubs, then across
the stream, swimming to the opposite shore; for the running man had
rounded the oval and was now swiftly coming this way. Here in the tall
grass it paused--cowering--once more on the watch.

And Hortensius, while he ran so blindly along, had failed to notice
where his enemy lay hiding.

"In the grass!" shouted a dozen voices.

"There!"

"On ahead!"

"Further on!"

"No! no! Not there! Not there!"

There was little exquisiteness left in the young man now. It was but a
few moments since he had stepped smiling into the arena, kicking aside
the rose-leaves which enthusiastic hands had thrown in his path. It was
but some minutes since he had begun to run, and now the perspiration was
pouring from his body, his face was as grey as the sand of the arena,
the fear of death had raised the death-sweat on his brow.

His breath came and went hot and panting through his nostrils, his eyes,
dilated with terror, were vainly searching for the cowering enemy.

Once more he turned to run. The panther seemed to be playing with