Silence
would hold himself in readiness to come. “Unless you should send for me sooner,” he had said. *       *       *       *       *

I found myself suddenly wide awake. It is impossible to say what woke
me, but it was no gradual process, seeing that I jumped from deep sleep
to absolute alertness in a single instant. I had evidently slept for an
hour and more, for the night had cleared, stars crowded the sky, and
a pallid half-moon just sinking into the sea threw a spectral light
between the trees. I went outside to sniff the air, and stood upright. A curious
impression that something was astir in the Camp came over me, and when
I glanced across at Sangree’s tent, some twenty feet away, I saw that
it was moving. He too, then, was awake and restless, for I saw the
canvas sides bulge this way and that as he moved within. Then the flap pushed forward. He was coming out, like myself, to sniff
the air; and I was not surprised, for its sweetness after the rain was
intoxicating. And he came on all fours, just as I had done. I saw a
head thrust round the edge of the tent. And then I saw that it was not Sangree at all. It was an animal. And
the same instant I realised something else too--it was _the_ animal;
and its whole presentment for some unaccountable reason was unutterably
malefic. A cry I was quite unable to suppress escaped me, and the creature
turned on the instant and stared at me with baleful eyes. I could
have dropped on the spot, for the strength all ran out of my body
with a rush. Something about it touched in me the living terror that
grips and paralyses. If the mind requires but the tenth of a second
to form an impression, I must have stood there stockstill for several
seconds while I seized the ropes for support and stared. Many and vivid
impressions flashed through my mind, but not one of them resulted in
action, because I was in instant dread that the beast any moment would
leap in my direction and be upon me. Instead, however, after what
seemed a vast period, it slowly turned its eyes from my face, uttered a
low whining sound, and came out altogether into the open. Then, for the first time, I saw it in its entirety and noted two
things: it was about the size of a large dog, but at the same time it
was utterly unlike any animal that I had ever seen. Also, that the
quality that had impressed me first as being malefic, was really only
its singular and original strangeness. Foolish as it may sound, and
impossible as it is for me to adduce proof, I can only say that the
animal seemed to me then to be--not real. But all this passed through my mind in a flash, almost subconsciously,
and before I had time to check my impressions, or even properly verify
them; I made an involuntary movement, catching the tight rope in my
hand so that it twanged like a banjo string, and in that instant the
creature turned the corner of Sangree’s tent and was gone into the
darkness. Then, of course, my senses in some measure returned to me, and I
realised only one thing: it had been inside his tent! I dashed out, reached the door in half a dozen strides, and looked in. The Canadian, thank God! lay upon his bed of branches. His arm was
stretched outside, across the blankets, the fist tightly clenched, and
the body had an appearance of unusual rigidity that was alarming. On
his face there was an expression of effort, almost of painful effort,
so far as the uncertain light permitted me to see, and his sleep seemed
to be very profound. He looked, I thought, so stiff, so unnaturally
stiff, and in some indefinable way, too, he looked smaller--shrunken. I called to him to wake, but called many times in vain. Then I decided
to shake him, and had already moved forward to do so vigorously when
there came a sound of footsteps padding softly behind me, and I felt a
stream of hot breath burn my neck as I stooped. I turned sharply. The
tent door was darkened and something silently swept in. I felt a rough
and shaggy body push past me, and knew that the animal had returned. It
seemed to leap forward between me and Sangree--in fact, to leap upon
Sangree, for its dark body hid him momentarily from view, and in that
moment my soul turned sick and coward with a horror that rose from the
very dregs and depth of life, and gripped my existence at its central
source. The creature seemed somehow to melt away into him, almost as though
it belonged to him and were a part of himself, but in the same
instant--that instant of extraordinary confusion and terror in my
mind--it seemed to pass over and behind him, and, in some utterly
unaccountable fashion, it was gone! And the Canadian woke and sat up
with a start. “Quick! You fool!” I cried, in my excitement, “the beast has been in
your tent, here at your very throat while you sleep like the dead. Up,
man! Get your gun! Only this second it disappeared over there behind
your head. Quick! or Joan----!”

And somehow the fact that he was there, wide-awake now, to corroborate
me, brought the additional conviction to my own mind that this was no
animal, but some perplexing and dreadful form of life that drew upon my
deeper knowledge, that much reading had perhaps assented to, but that
had never yet come within actual range of my senses. He was up in a flash, and out. He was trembling, and very white. We
searched hurriedly, feverishly, but found only the traces of paw-marks
passing from the door of his own tent across the moss to the women’s. And the sight of the tracks about Mrs. Maloney’s tent, where Joan now
slept, set him in a perfect fury. “Do you know what it is, Hubbard, this beast?” he hissed under his
breath at me; “it’s a damned wolf, that’s what it is--a wolf lost among
the islands, and starving to death--desperate. So help me God, I
believe it’s that!”

He talked a lot of rubbish in his excitement. He declared he would
sleep by day and sit up every night until he killed it. Again his rage
touched my admiration; but I got him away before he made enough noise
to wake the whole Camp. “I have a better plan than that,” I said, watching his face closely. “I
don’t think this is anything we can deal with. I’m going to send for
the only man I know who can help. We’ll go to Waxholm this very morning
and get a telegram through.”

Sangree stared at me with a curious expression as the fury died out of
his face and a new look of alarm took its place. “John Silence,” I said, “will know----”

“You think it’s something--of that sort?” he stammered. “I am sure of it.”

There was a moment’s pause. “That’s worse, far worse than anything
material,” he said, turning visibly paler. He looked from my face to
the sky, and then added with sudden resolution, “Come; the wind’s
rising. Let’s get off at once. From there you can telephone to
Stockholm and get a telegram sent without delay.”

I sent him down to get the boat ready, and seized the opportunity
myself to run and wake Maloney. He was sleeping very lightly, and
sprang up the moment I put my head inside his tent.