there was nothing. Then he reasoned with himself. He had not really
seen the flitting figure of a man. It was merely the effect of an
alarmed imagination, and he told himself to ride straight on, looking
ahead, not back. But reason again yielded to instinct and he curved once
more into the deep forest, where the tangle of vines and undergrowth also
was so thick that it would take a keen eye to find him.

Dick looked back along the path which he had come and he was confident
that he saw some of the tall bushes shake a little. It could not be wind,
because the air was absolutely still, and soon he was convinced that his
instinct had been right all the time. Fancy had played him no trick and
the shadow that he had seen was a human figure.

He felt with all the force of conviction that he was in great danger,
but he did not know what to do. So he did nothing, but sat quietly on
his horse among the bushes. The heat was intense there and innumerable
flies, gnats, and mosquitoes assailed him. The mosquitoes were so fierce
that they drew blood from his face a half-dozen times.

Alone in the heat of the deep marshy wilderness he felt fear more than in
battle. Danger threatened here in a mysterious, invisible fashion and he
could only wait.

He saw a bush move again, but much nearer, and then came the crack of
a rifle. If his horse, alarmed perhaps, had not thrown up his head
suddenly, and received the bullet himself the lad's career would have
ended there.

The horse made a convulsive leap, then staggered for a few seconds,
giving his rider time to spring clear, and fell among the bushes.