The Red Wolf

With the assistance of the shepherd Kathlyn went down the rope agilely
and safely. Once firmly on her feet, she turned to thank the wild-eyed
hillman. But her best Hindustani (and she was able to speak and
understand quite a little by now) fell on ears which heard but did not
sense what she said. The man, mild and harmless enough, for all his
wild eyes, shrank back, for no woman of his kind had ever looked like
this. Kathlyn, with a deal of foreboding, repeated the phrase, and
asked the way back to the hunter's rest house. He shook his head; he
understood nothing.

But there is one language which is universal the world over, and this
is sign language. Kathlyn quickly stooped and drew in the dust the
shape of the rest house. Then she pointed in the direction from whence
she had come. He smiled and nodded excitedly. He understood now.
Next, being unarmed, she felt the need of some sort of weapon. So she
drew the shape of a rifle in the dust, then produced four rupees, all
she had. The shepherd gurgled delightedly, ran into the hut, and
returned with a rifle of modern make and a belt of cartridges. With a
gesture he signified that it was useless to him because he did not know
how to use it.

He took the rupees and Kathlyn took the rifle, vaguely wondering how it
came into the possession of this poverty-stricken hillman. Of one
thing she was certain; it had become his either through violence of his
own or of others. She examined the breech and found a dead shell,
which she cast out. The rifle carried six cartridges, and she loaded
skillfully, much to the astonishment of the hillman. Then she swung
the butt to her shoulder and fired up at the ledge where the panthers
had last been seen.