for a man's.

Where heavy feet were there was something tangible. His veins tingled
and the cold sweat dried. Excitement began to reawaken all his soldier
senses, and the wish to challenge seized him--the soldierly intent to
warn the unaware, which is the actual opposite of cowardice.

"Halt! Who comes there?"

He lipped the words, but his dry throat would not voice them. Before
he could clear his throat or wet his lips his eye caught something
lighter than the night--two things--ten--twelve paces off--two
things that glowed or sheened as though there were light inside them--
too big and too far apart to be owl's eyes, but singularly like them.
They moved, a little sideways and toward him; and again he heard the
heavy, stealthy footfall.

They stayed still then for what may have been a minute, and another
sense--smell--warned him and stirred up the man in him. He had
never smelled it in his life; it must have been instinct that assured
him of an enemy behind the strange, unpleasant, rather musky reek that
filled the room. His right hand brought the rifle to his shoulder
without sound, and almost without conscious effort on his part.

He forgot the heat now and the silence and discomfort. He lay still on
his side, squinting down the rifle barrel at a spot he judged was
midway between a pair of eyes that glowed, and wondering where his
foresight might be. It struck him all at once that it was quite
impossible to see the foresight--that he must actually touch what he
would hit if he would be at all sure of hitting it. He remembered,