room was without occupants; yet it was with every sense alert that I
entered, pressing slowly past the table toward where I felt the
fireplace would naturally be, knowing that my companion was yet with
me, her hand clutching my arm.

"Oh!" she cried sharply in terror, "what was that?"

It was something certainly,--a deadened, muffled, shuffling sound
directly in our front, followed by a strange noise of scraping, as if
with a dull knife on wood.

"Wait here." I said sternly. "Probably it is nothing more dangerous
than a rat."

I felt my way carefully around the table, a revolver ready in my hand.
There was nothing to be found there,--nothing, indeed, in the room; for
from my new position I could look backward and distinguish in the
moonlight the details of that simple, squalid interior. I ran my hand
along the rough logs of the further wall. Ay! here was a break,
doubtless a door; and groping along the crack I found the latch.

There was no longer any noise audible, and I drew the door inward,
never dreaming of danger. Suddenly, with a fierce, wild spring out of
the dark, a huge body hurled itself directly at my throat, striking
with such headlong impetus that I went backward as if shot, crashing
against the table, then to the floor, dropping my weapon as I fell.
There was no noise, no sound, while for an instant, with strength of
sheer desperation, I held back the snapping jaws that breathed hot fire
into my very face. With a bound backward of its great body the beast
jerked free from my grip, and the next instant had sunk its dripping