To whom had it belonged?
It was of German make; but that signified nothing.

It might have belonged to an Englishman, a Frenchman, or a Russian; more likely the latter, since this was one of the localities where they crossed and recrossed with their note-books to be utilized against that day when the Bear dropped down from the north and tackled the Lion.
Kathlyn had to go down to the very bottom of the ravine.

She must follow the goat path, no matter where it wound, for this ultimately would lead her to the rest house.

As she started up the final incline, through the cedars and pines, she heard the bark of the wolf, the red wolf who hunted in packs of twenty or thirty, in reality far more menacing than a tiger or a panther, since no hunter could kill a whole pack.
To this wolf, when hunting his kill, the tiger gave wide berth; the bear took to his cave, and all fleet-footed things of the jungles fled in panic.
Kathlyn climbed as rapidly as she could.

She dared not mount a tree, for the red wolf would outwit her.