I saw
one of the horsemen (soldiers by their caps and their long military
cloaks) raise his carbine and take aim. A companion knocked up his arm,
and I heard the ball whizz over my head. He had evidently taken my body
for that of the wolf. Another sighted the animal as it slunk away, and
a shot followed. Then, at a gallop, the troop rode forward—some towards
me, others following the wolf as it disappeared amongst the snow-clad
cypresses. As they drew nearer I tried to move, but was powerless, although I
could see and hear all that went on around me. Two or three of the
soldiers jumped from their horses and knelt beside me. One of them
raised my head, and placed his hand over my heart. “Good news, comrades!” he cried. “His heart still beats!”

Then some brandy was poured down my throat; it put vigour into me, and
I was able to open my eyes fully and look around. Lights and shadows
were moving among the trees, and I heard men call to one another. They
drew together, uttering frightened exclamations; and the lights flashed
as the others came pouring out of the cemetery pell-mell, like men
possessed. When the further ones came close to us, those who were
around me asked them eagerly:

“Well, have you found him?”

The reply rang out hurriedly:

“No! no! Come away quick—quick! This is no place to stay, and on this
of all nights!”

“What was it?” was the question, asked in all manner of keys. The
answer came variously and all indefinitely as though the men were moved
by some common impulse to speak, yet were restrained by some common
fear from giving their thoughts. “It—it—indeed!” gibbered one, whose wits had plainly given out for the
moment. “A wolf—and yet not a wolf!” another put in shudderingly. “No use trying for him without the sacred bullet,” a third remarked in
a more ordinary manner. “Serve us right for coming out on this night! Truly we have earned our
thousand marks!” were the ejaculations of a fourth. “There was blood on the broken marble,” another said after a pause—“the
lightning never brought that there. And for him—is he safe? Look at his
throat! See, comrades, the wolf has been lying on him and keeping his
blood warm.”

The officer looked at my throat and replied:

“He is all right; the skin is not pierced. What does it all mean? We
should never have found him but for the yelping of the wolf.”

“What became of it?” asked the man who was holding up my head, and who
seemed the least panic-stricken of the party, for his hands were steady
and without tremor. On his sleeve was the chevron of a petty officer. “It went to its home,” answered the man, whose long face was pallid,
and who actually shook with terror as he glanced around him fearfully. “There are graves enough there in which it may lie. Come, comrades—come
quickly! Let us leave this cursed spot.”

The officer raised me to a sitting posture, as he uttered a word of
command; then several men placed me upon a horse. He sprang to the
saddle behind me, took me in his arms, gave the word to advance; and,
turning our faces away from the cypresses, we rode away in swift,
military order. As yet my tongue refused its office, and I was perforce silent. I must
have fallen asleep; for the next thing I remembered was finding myself
standing up, supported by a soldier on each side of me. It was almost
broad daylight, and to the north a red streak of sunlight was
reflected, like a path of blood, over the waste of snow. The officer
was telling the men to say nothing of what they had seen, except that
they found an English stranger, guarded by a large dog. “Dog! that was no dog,” cut in the man who had exhibited such fear. “I
think I know a wolf when I see one.”

The young officer answered calmly: “I said a dog.”

“Dog!” reiterated the other ironically. It was evident that his courage
was rising with the sun; and, pointing to me, he said, “Look at his
throat. Is that the work of a dog, master?”

Instinctively I raised my hand to my throat, and as I touched it I
cried out in pain. The men crowded round to look, some stooping down
from their saddles; and again there came the calm voice of the young
officer:

“A dog, as I said. If aught else were said we should only be laughed
at.”

I was then mounted behind a trooper, and we rode on into the suburbs of
Munich. Here we came across a stray carriage, into which I was lifted,
and it was driven off to the Quatre Saisons—the young officer
accompanying me, whilst a trooper followed with his horse, and the
others rode off to their barracks. When we arrived, Herr Delbrück rushed so quickly down the steps to meet
me, that it was apparent he had been watching within. Taking me by both
hands he solicitously led me in. The officer saluted me and was turning
to withdraw, when I recognised his purpose, and insisted that he should
come to my rooms. Over a glass of wine I warmly thanked him and his
brave comrades for saving me. He replied simply that he was more than
glad, and that Herr Delbrück had at the first taken steps to make all
the searching party pleased; at which ambiguous utterance the maître
d’hôtel smiled, while the officer pleaded duty and withdrew. “But Herr Delbrück,” I enquired, “how and why was it that the soldiers
searched for me?”

He shrugged his shoulders, as if in depreciation of his own deed, as he
replied:

“I was so fortunate as to obtain leave from the commander of the
regiment in which I served, to ask for volunteers.”

“But how did you know I was lost?” I asked. “The driver came hither with the remains of his carriage, which had
been upset when the horses ran away.”

“But surely you would not send a search-party of soldiers merely on
this account?”

“Oh, no!” he answered; “but even before the coachman arrived, I had
this telegram from the Boyar whose guest you are,” and he took from his
pocket a telegram which he handed to me, and I read:

_Bistritz_. Be careful of my guest—his safety is most precious to me. Should aught
happen to him, or if he be missed, spare nothing to find him and ensure
his safety. He is English and therefore adventurous. There are often
dangers from snow and wolves and night. Lose not a moment if you
suspect harm to him. I answer your zeal with my fortune.—_Dracula_. As I held the telegram in my hand, the room seemed to whirl around me;
and, if the attentive maître d’hôtel had not caught me, I think I
should have fallen. There was something so strange in all this,
something so weird and impossible to imagine, that there grew on me a
sense of my being in some way the sport of opposite forces—the mere
vague idea of which seemed in a way to paralyse me. I was certainly
under some form of mysterious protection. From a distant country had
come, in the very nick of time, a message that took me out of the
danger of the snow-sleep and the jaws of the wolf. The Judge’s House


When the time for his examination drew near Malcolm Malcolmson made up
his mind to go somewhere to read by himself.