We
searched hurriedly, feverishly, but found only the traces of paw-marks
passing from the door of his own tent across the moss to the women's.
And the sight of the tracks about Mrs. Maloney's tent, where Joan now
slept, set him in a perfect fury.
"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.
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