The monotonous lapping of the waves against the stone wall, the constant
splashing of water over the rocks and the steady blowing of the wind all
tended to make the watcher feel drowsy.
"What on earth can be keeping good old Tom?" Harry wondered, more than
once.
It would have been well, indeed, had Harry kept his eyes turned oftener
toward the shore end of the wall. In that case he might more speedily
have detected the wriggling, snake-like movement of the big negro moving
toward him.
With great caution the huge prowler came onward, raising his head a few
inches every now and then and listening. The black man's nostrils moved
feverishly. He was using them, as a dog would have done, to scent any
signs of alarm on the part of the human quarry that he was after.
At last Harry Hazelton turned sharply, for his own ears were attuned to
the stillnesses of the western forests and his hearing was unusually acute.
He had just heard a sound on the wall, not far away. Instantly the young
engineer was on the alert.
Then his eyes, piercing the darkness, made out the crawling, dark form,
which did not appear to be more than fifty feet away from him.
For a second or two Harry stared.
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