The hounds had crossed a fresher trail than that of the lion, and our leader had discovered it.

Despite a keen appreciation of Jones's task, I gave way to amusement, and repeated Wallace's paradoxical formula: "Pet the lions and shoot the hounds." So I headed down the ravine, looking for a blunt, bold crag, which I had descried from camp.

I found it before long, and profiting by past failures to judge of distance, gave my first impression a great stretch, and then decided that I was more than two miles from Oak.
Long after two miles had been covered, and I had begun to associate Jim's biscuits with a certain soft seat near a ruddy fire, I was apparently still the same distance from my landmark crag.

Suddenly a slight noise brought me to a halt.

I listened intently.