He must bide his time, wait for an encounter,
dodge it if the moment proved unpropitious, but
refrain from close attack. He must wait for his
chance.

As lie stood there, alert to every least thing, he
suddenly awoke to tease breathing close behind
him. For one naming moment he was puzzled.
Then he remembered that he had been watching
the gray out of the corner of his eye. He had
seemed to be off guard, and the other had stolen
cautiously around behind him, evidently to take
advantage of this chance. He swallowed hard.
The enemy was stealing upon him. He wanted
to wheel, believed he ought to wheel if he would
save himself, but he did not. Instead, he brought
craft into play. He listened patiently, intensely
alert, and bided his time. The breathing came
closer, closer still, and stopped. He heard the
enemy swallow. He conquered his longing to
turn, and remained still as death. The gray drew
no closer. He seemed to be waiting, also biding
his time. And now it became a test, a matter
of nervous endurance, each waiting for the other.
Around them pressed the desert solitude. There
was no sound anywhere. The sun beat down
upon the earth remorselessly. And still Pat
waited, but not for long. There was a soft tread
behind him, and he knew that he had won in
the contest of endurance. With the footfalls he
heard spasmodic breathing. And yet he waited.
But he was ready to strike -- to deal the deathblow.
Closer came the restrained breathing, was

[[276]]

p275 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p276w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p277

v?