He slid down from the tree and struck off again into the woods. He forced himself to think. Three hundred yards away he stopped where a huge dead tree leaned precariously on a smaller, living one. Throwing off his sack of food, he began to work. The job was soon finished, and he threw himself down behind a fallen log a hundred feet away. He did not have to wait long. The cat was coming again to play with the mouse.

Following the trail with the sureness of a bloodhound came the general. Nothing escaped those searching eyes, no crushed blade of grass, no bent twig, no mark in the moss. So intent was the Cossack on his stalking that he was upon the thing Rainsford had made before he saw it. His foot touched the protruding bough that was the trigger. He sensed the danger and leaped back with the agility of an ape. But he was not quite quick enough; the dead tree, delicately adjusted to rest on the cut living one, crushed down and struck him on the shoulder; but for his alertness, he must have been smashed beneath it. He staggered, but he did not fall. He stood there, rubbing his shoulder, and Rainsford heard his mocking laugh ring through the jungle.

Rainsford, called the general, "if you are within sound of my voice, as I suppose you are, let me congratulate you. Not many men know how to make a Malay man-catcher. You are proving interesting, Mr. Rainsford. I'm going now to have my wound dressed. But I shall be back. I shall be back."