He turned slightly to the left and there perceived another keeper, who also seemed to be awaiting him.

And there were more and more of them; at every fifty paces or so stood a fresh one, the whole forming a _cordon_, the meshes as it were of a huge net.

The worst was that he must have been perceived, for a light cry, like the clear call of an owl, rang out, and was repeated farther and farther off.

The hunters were at last on the right scent, prudence had become superfluous, and it was only by flight that the quarry might now hope to escape.

Salvat understood this so well that he suddenly began to run, leaping over all obstacles and darting between the trees, careless whether he were seen or heard.