Her boots and
stockings followed the skirt, for the bare sole of the human foot
does not slip upon dry or even wet bark as does the hard leather
of a boot. She would have liked to discard her riding breeches
also, but the motherly admonitions of My Dear had convinced Meriem
that it was not good form to go naked through the world.
At her hip hung a hunting knife. Her rifle was still in its boot
at her pony's withers. Her revolver she had not brought.
The kid was still bleating as Meriem started rapidly in its direction,
which she knew was straight toward a certain water hole which had
once been famous as a rendezvous for lions. Of late there had
been no evidence of carnivora in the neighborhood of this drinking
place; but Meriem was positive that the bleating of the kid was
due to the presence of either lion or panther.
But she would soon know, for she was rapidly approaching the
terrified animal. She wondered as she hastened onward that the
sounds continued to come from the same point. Why did the kid
not run away? And then she came in sight of the little animal and
knew.
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