“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—”