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He
examines
it
with
the
look
of
one
who
has
conceived
a
scheme
,
and
is
reconnoitring
the
terrain
,
to
see
if
it
will
suit
.
At
the
same
time
,
his
fingers
close
nervously
around
his
rifle
,
which
he
manipulates
with
a
feverish
impatience
.
Still
is
there
irresolution
in
his
looks
;
and
he
hesitates
about
throwing
himself
into
a
fixed
attitude
.
On
reflection
the
scheme
is
abandoned
.
"
It
wo
n't
do
!
"
he
mutters
.
"
There
's
too
many
of
them
fellows
coming
after
--
some
that
can
track
,
too
?
They
'd
find
his
carcase
,
sure
,
--
maybe
hear
the
shot
?
"
No
--
no
.
It
wo
n't
do
!
"
He
stays
a
while
longer
,
listening
.
There
is
no
sound
heard
either
before
or
behind
--
only
that
overhead
made
by
the
soft
waving
of
the
vulturine
wings
.
Strange
,
the
birds
should
keep
above
him
!
"
Yes
--
he
must
be
coming
on
?
Damn
the
crooked
luck
,
that
the
others
should
be
so
close
after
him
!
But
for
that
,
it
would
have
been
just
the
time
to
put
an
end
to
his
spying
on
me
!
And
so
easy
,
too
!
"
Not
so
easy
as
you
think
,
Cassius
Calhoun
;
and
the
birds
above
--
were
they
gifted
with
the
power
of
speech
--
could
tell
you
so
.
