spread their wings in flight is pleasing to the eye.

"I love the golden oriole," says Eleanor, "they look like a flash of
sunlight. The Eastern birds are very beautiful."

As she speaks there is a low growl from behind.

Simultaneously Eleanor and Carol turn in their saddles, looking sharply
at the dog, and then to the thick growth towards which he is stealing,
his tail between his legs and his head down.

"I believe that dog is cracked," says Eleanor, calling him back
sharply. "I always feel as if some evil spirit were near us when he
behaves like that."

"I told you how it would be if we brought him."

"Let us see what he will do."

The dog has taken no heed of her call, but crouches nearer the bushes,
bristling all over. Then suddenly he makes a dive into their midst,
disappearing from view.

This is followed by a series of shrill barks--the sound as of a dog
fighting for its life--a skirmish--a hideous yell--and then--silence.

"Something has killed him!" whispers Eleanor under her breath.

"We had better get on," replies Quinton; "it may be some dangerous
beast."

"What! ride off, and perhaps leave the wretched dog mangled and maimed
to crawl away and starve? Carol! what are you thinking of?"

She springs to the ground, flings him her reins, and before he realises
what she is going to do, rushes into the bushes after her pet.

"Eleanor, are you _mad_?" he thunders, already picturing her devoured
by some fierce beast.

It is a moment of horrible suspense. Then she emerges, her face
scratched by the low boughs, bearing tenderly the limp body of the
terrier, torn and bleeding.

[Illustration: Bearing tenderly the limp body of the terrier.]

"He is quite dead," she says sorrowfully, tears standing in her eyes.
"I can see the marks of teeth on his throat."

"Poor little beggar! Do you know you too might be dead at this moment
for the sake of recovering the lifeless body of a dog? You must be off
your head, Eleanor, to do such an utterly insane thing. Whatever were
you thinking of?"

"I was excited--my blood was up. I am like that," she answers
apologetically.

They ride silently home.

"We shall miss him," sighs Eleanor at last.

"Who? The dog?"

"Yes. We must let Captain Stevenson know."

"I wonder what animal killed him?"

"I saw nothing; only I fancy I heard a rustle in the trees to my right,
and the sound of a horse's hoofs scampering towards the jungle. It may
have been