ycreaturewhichMapleWhitehadpreservedinhissketch-book,andwhichhadbeenthefirstobjectwhicharrestedtheattentionofChallenger!Therehewas—perhapstheveryspecimenwhichtheAmericanartisthadencountered.Thegroundshookbeneathhistremendousweight,andhisgulpingsofwaterresoundedthroughthestillnight.ForfiveminuteshewassoclosetomyrockthatbystretchingoutmyhandIcouldhavetouchedthehideouswavinghacklesuponhisback.Thenhelumberedawayandwaslostamongtheboulders.
Lookingatmywatch,Isawthatitwashalf-pasttwoo'clock,andhightime,therefore,thatIstarteduponmyhomewardjourney.TherewasnodifficultyaboutthedirectioninwhichIshouldreturnforallalongIhadkeptthelittlebrookuponmyleft,anditopenedintothecentrallakewithinastone's-throwoftheboulderuponwhichIhadbeenlying.Isetoff,therefore,inhighspirits,forIfeltthatIhaddonegoodworkandwasbringingbackafinebudgetofnewsformycompanions.Foremostofall,ofcourse,werethesightofthefierycavesandthecertaintythatsometroglodyticraceinhabitedthem.ButbesidesthatIcouldspeakfromexperienceofthecentrallake.Icouldtestifythatitwasfullofstrangecreatures,andIhadseenseverallandformsofprimevallifewhichwehadnotbeforeencountered.IreflectedasIwalkedthatfewmenintheworldcouldhavespentastrangernightoraddedmoretohumanknowledgeinthecourseofit.
Iwasploddinguptheslope,turningthesethoughtsoverinmymind,andhadreachedapointwhichmayhavebeenhalf-waytohome,whenmymindwasbroughtbacktomyownpositionbyastrangenoisebehindme.Itwassomethingbetweenasnoreandagrowl,low,deep,andexceedinglymenacing.Somestrangecreaturewasevidentlynearme,butnothingcouldbeseen,soIhastenedmorerapidlyuponmyway.Ihadtraversedhalfamileorsowhensuddenlythesoundwasrepeated,stillbehindme,butlouderandmoremenacingthanbefore.Myheartstoodstillwithinmeasitflashedacrossmethatthebeast,whateveritwas,mustsurelybeafterME.Myskingrewcoldandmyhairroseatthethought.Thatthesemonstersshouldteareachothertopieceswasapartofthestrangestruggleforexistence,butthattheyshouldturnuponmodernman,thattheyshoulddeliberatelytrackandhuntdownthepredominanthuman,wasastaggeringandfearsomethought.Irememberedagaintheblood-beslobberedfacewhichwehadseenintheglareofLordJohn'storch,likesomehorriblevisionfromthedeepestcircleofDante'shell.Withmykneesshakingbeneathme,Istoodandglaredwithstartingeyesdownthemoonlitpathwhichlaybehindme.Allwasquietasinadreamlandscape.Silverclearingsandtheblackpatchesofthebushes—nothingelsecouldIsee.Thenfromoutofthesilence,imminentandthreatening,therecameoncemorethatlow,throatycroaking,farlouderandcloserthanbefore.Therecouldnolongerbeadoubt.Somethingwason