? ? ? ? At her hip hung a hunting knife. Her rifle was still in its boot at her pony's withers. Her revolver she had not brought.
? ? ? ? The kid was still bleating as Meriem started rapidly in its direction, which she knew was straight toward a certain water hole which had once been famous as a rendezvous for lions. Of late there had been no evidence of carnivora in the neighborhood of this drinking place; but Meriem was positive that the bleating of the kid was due to the presence of either lion or panther.
? ? ? ? But she would soon know, for she was rapidly approaching the terrified animal. She wondered as she hastened onward that the sounds continued to come from the same point. Why did the kid not run away? And then she came in sight of the little animal and knew. The kid was tethered to a stake beside the waterhole.
? ? ? ? Meriem paused in the branches of a near-by tree and scanned the surrounding clearing with quick, penetrating eyes.
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