What was perhaps worse, he had become
exceedingly jealous of the attention paid to him. Because he took it
into his head that Max preferred Bertram's company to his own, he held
aloof from him and conversed only with the Spaniards. But, in thus
describing the change that had come over his character, I have wandered
away from the incident I was about to put on record.

As I have said, the commissariat stood in great need of replenishment.
Being anxious to give the animals a rest, it was agreed that the party
should remain in camp for another day. This being so, Bertram took his
rifle and started off into the mountains in search of game. When he had
been gone about half an hour, Moreas, who had been in one of his
tantrums all day, also decided to set out upon the same errand. Climbing
the side of the mountain, he, in his turn, disappeared from view, and
Max, who had been watching him, returned to the tailoring operations
upon which he had hitherto been busily engaged. As he worked, the
recollection of a quarrel that had taken place in the morning between
Moreas and Bertram returned to his mind. It had been brewing for a long
time, and, had it not been for Max's own repeated interventions, it
would long since have taken a serious turn. Both men were equally ready
to fight, but Max was aware that Bertram, good shot as he was, when
pitted against such a man as Moreas, would stand but a small chance of
success. He was still pondering over this, when another thought occurred
to him. It placed a more serious aspect upon the case. He liked Bertram,
and he had no intention of allowing the Spaniard to do him a mischief,
if he could help it. He accordingly rose, stowed away his work in his
saddle-bag, and, having explained to the two other men, that he felt
inclined for a walk, and was going after Moreas, he also climbed the
side of the hill. On reaching the summit he looked anxiously about him
for the man he was seeking, both on the neighbouring hills and also in
the valley below. For a long time, however, he was unsuccessful. Then a
mile or so distant, along the hillside to the right, his quick eye
detected a small black object, creeping slowly but steadily towards the
west. He was evidently stalking something, and Max, remembering Moreas'
skill with the rifle, resolved to follow him, in the hope that he might
be of some service in helping to carry home the game.

Seeing the slow pace at which the other was travelling, it was no