t something was about to
happen.

As I held my breath and listened, the ranch house was silent; even Pete
had not, apparently, awakened, but I could not hear his regular
breathing. Now I thought I could detect a soft and very faint noise as
of some large body creeping over the puncheon steps. I also imagined I
detected the noise of padded feet and the scraping noise of claws on the
wood. A shudder ran through me. Was a panther, a mountain lion, about to
spring upon me? No, I abandoned the thought and instinctively I knew
that it must be one of the black wolf pack. Then I remembered hearing
the cracking and breaking of sticks or timber while I was trying to
sleep in the bedroom, and I felt that Pluto had broken out of the pen
and was creeping up on us slowly and stealthily as I have seen a fox
creep up on a covey of quail.

Would the beast presently hurl its terrible form upon me, or on Big
Pete? I attempted to warn my friend, but my tongue clung to the roof of
my mouth and for the moment I was powerless and speechless, subdued by a
combination of fear of the real beast and superstitious fear of the
fabulous werwolf or loup-garou,[4] but the next moment I pulled myself
together, mastered my trembling limbs, rolled softly out of my blankets,
and gun in hand wormed my way toward the spot where Big Pete lay,
determined to sell my life dearly. With Big Pete beside me, now that I
was thoroughly awake, I would fight all the werwolves of the old world
and all the loup-garous of Canada. I reached out and felt for Pete but
he was not there, the blankets were empty; once or twice I thought I
detected the glint of the wolves' eyes, but the night was very dark and
in the shadow of the roof I could really see nothing.

[Footnote 4: A werwolf, or loup-garou, is a legendary man who,
it was formerly believed, could at will take on the form and
nature of a wolf.]

Closer and closer sounded the stealthy, dragging noise, and I heard a
hand feel softly for the latch of the front door and could hear fingers
scraping ever so softly over the wood surface of the other side. A
slight rattle told me that the hand had found the latch and that
presently the door would be flung open. With my revolver ready I waited
developments and braced myself for the attack.

The door flew open wide, and the voice of the Wild Hunter cried,

"Pluto, you fiend, down! down! I say!"

But this time the huge brute did not obey and the command was answered