Stella heard him, and looked up. He was standing before her at the
corner of her shelter, his blank face turned toward the place from which
the cat's cry had come.
Suddenly a strange thing happened. From the breast of the black garment
worn by Silver Face leaped a flame, followed by the crash of a revolver.
This was succeeded by another, and a third.
The sleeping men had been aroused, and were sitting up in their
blankets, blinking stupidly.
Behind her shelter Stella heard a thrashing among the frozen underbrush,
while Silver Face stood immovable, the blazing eyes in the mask staring
in that direction.
Meanwhile, Stella was marveling at those shots which had seemed to
spring from his very body, and without the apparent use of his hands.
But soon the noise in the brush ceased, and Silver Face stepped out of
sight.
In a moment he was back, and threw into the circle of light about the
fire the body of an enormous mountain cat.
The men had fallen back into their blankets and were sleeping again,
while Silver Face resumed his place before the fire.
Soon Stella, began to yawn, and her eyes grew heavy with sleep.
But she did not want to sleep. She had a foreboding that if she slept
she would be in danger.
However, the dancing flames and the soft, comfortable heat which came
from the fire were too much for her resolution, and her head began to
droop, and presently her body sank gently down, and, as she pillowed her
head on her arm, she fell into a deep sleep.
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