Robert W. Chambers,
The Flaming Jewel
“ After a little while in the intense silence of the forest she ventured to touch the switch of her torch, very cautiously.In the faint, pale lustre she saw a tiny rivulet flowing westward from a spring, and, beside it, in the mud, imprints of a man's feet.The tracks were small, narrow, slimmer than imprints made by any man she could think of. Under the glimmer of her torch they seemed quite fresh; contours were still sharp, some ready to crumble, and water stood in the heels. ”
