'A man's footstep!' Involuntarily a thought of Cooper's Pathfinder and of abreks flashed through Olenin's mind, but noticing the mysterious manner with which the old man moved on, he hesitated to question him and remained in doubt whether this mysteriousness was caused by fear of danger or by the sport.
'No, it's my own footprint,' the old man said quietly, and pointed to some grass under which the track of an animal was just perceptible.
The old man went on; and Olenin kept up with him.
Descending to lower ground some twenty paces farther on they came upon a spreading pear-tree, under which, on the black earth, lay the fresh dung of some animal.
The spot, all covered over with wild vines, was like a cosy arbour, dark and cool.
'He's been here this morning,' said the old man with a sigh; 'the lair is still damp, quite fresh.' Suddenly they heard a terrible crash in the forest some ten paces from where they stood.

They both started and seized their guns, but they could see nothing and only heard the branches breaking.

The rhythmical rapid thud of galloping was heard for a moment and then changed into a hollow rumble which resounded farther and farther off, re-echoing in wider and wider circles through the forest.

Olenin felt as though something had snapped in his heart.

He peered carefully but vainly into the green thicket and then turned to the old man.