For half an hour Frank sat there, turning over the situation in his mind. He hoped the cat might tire of waiting, or go back to the fox she had killed, but the animal showed no such intentions. Noon came, and there was no change. Frank was tired and cramped, and he began to feel the pangs of hunger. He moved about, seeking to be comfortable, and every time he shifted his position the wildcat would growl, as if resenting it.