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He was a very quiet， self-possessed sort of man， sitting amoment on top of the wall to sound the damp darkness forwarnings of the dangers it might conceal. But the plummetof his hearing brought nothing to him save the moaning ofwind through invisible trees and the rustling of leaves onswaying branches. A heavy fog drifted and drove before thewind， and though he could not see this fog， the wet of itblew upon his face， and the wall on which he sat was wet.
Without noise he had climbed to the top of the wallfrom the outside， and without noise he dropped to theground on the inside. From his pocket he drew an electricnight-stick， but he did not use it. Dark as the way was，he was not anxious for light. Carrying the night-stick inhis hand， his finger on the button， he advanced throughthe darkness. The ground was velvety and springy to hisfeet， being carpeted with dead pine-needles and leavesand mold which evidently bad been undisturbed for years.
Leaves and branches brushed against his body， but so darkwas it that he could not avoid them. Soon he walked withhis hand stretched out gropingly before him， and morethan once the hand fetched up against the solid trunks ofmassive trees. All about him he knew were these trees； hesensed the loom of them everywhere； and he experienceda strange feeling of microscopic smallness in the midst ofgreat bulks leaning toward him to crush him. Beyond， heknew， was the house， and he expected to find some trail orwinding path that would lead easily to it.
Once， he found himself trapped. On every side hegroped against trees and branches， or blundered intothickets of underbrush， until there seemed no way out.
Then he turned on his light， circumspectly， directing itsrays to the ground at his feet. Slowly and carefully hemoved it about him， the white brightness showing in sharpdetail all the obstacles to his progress. He saw， an openingbetween huge-trunked trees， and advanced through it，putting out the light and treading on dry footing as yetprotected from the drip of the fog by the dense foliageoverhead. His sense of direction was good， and he knewhe was going toward the house.
And then the thing happened—the thing unthinkableand unexpected. His descending foot came down uponsomething that was soft and alive， and that arose witha snort under the weight of his body. He sprang clear，and crouched for another spring， anywhere， tense andexpectant， keyed for the onslaught of the unknown. Hewaited a moment， wondering what manner of animal itwas that had arisen from under his foot and that nowmade no sound nor movement and that must be crouchingand waiting just as tensely and expectantly as he. Thestrain became unbearable. Holding the night-stick beforehim， he pressed the button， saw， and screamed aloud interror. He was prepared for anything， from a frightenedcalf or fawn to a belligerent lion， but he was not preparedfor what he saw. In that instant his tiny searchlight， sharpand white， had shown him what a thousand years wouldnot en. able him to forget—a man， huge and blond， yellowhairedand yellow-bearded， naked except for soft-tannedmoccasins and what seemed a goat-skin about his middle.
Arms and legs were bare， as were his shoulders and most ofhis chest. The skin was smooth and hairless， but brownedby sun and wind， while under it heavy muscles were knottedlike fat snakes. Still， this alone， unexpected as it well was，was not what had made the man scream out. What hadcaused his terror was the unspeakable ferocity of the face，the wild-animal glare of the blue eyes scarcely dazzled bythe light， the pine-needles matted and clinging in the beardand hair， and the whole formidable body crouched and inthe act of springing at him. Practically in the instant he sawall this， and while his scream still rang， the thing leaped，he flung his night-stick full at it， and threw himself to theground. He felt its feet and shins strike against his ribs，and he bounded up and away while the thing itself hurledonward in a heavy crashing fall into the underbrush.
As the noise of the fall ceased， the man stopped andon hands and knees waited. He could hear the thingmoving about， searching for him， and he was afraid toadvertise his location by attempting further flight. Heknew that inevitably he would crackle the underbrush andbe pursued. Once he drew out his revolver， then changedhis mind. He had recovered his composure and hoped toget away without noise. Several times he heard the thingbeating up the thickets for him， and there were momentswhen it， too， remained still and listened. This gave anidea to the man. One of his hands was resting on a chunkof dead wood. Carefully， first feeling about him in thedarkness to know that the full swing of his arm was clear，he raised the chunk of wood and threw it. It was not alarge piece， and it went far， landing noisily in a bush. Heheard the thing bound into the bush， and at the same timehimself crawled steadily away. And on hands and knees，slowly and cautiously， he crawled on， till his knees werewet on the soggy mold. When he listened he heard naughtbut the moaning wind and the drip-drip of the fog fromthe branches. Never abating his caution， he stood erectand went on to the stone wall， over which he climbed anddropped down to the road outside.