His inquiry was answered by a sight of the creature itself. He saw a large, clumsy-looking animal, with an immense head and a most frightful-looking body, spotted and striped in the most terrible manner, coming straight toward him.
“Begorra! but it’s the divil,” was the Irishman’s conclusion, as he sat like one transfixed, staring at it. “It’s the divil himself, dressed up in his bist soot, and going to the circus.”
It can not be said that Teddy was particularly frightened, for he had his loaded gun in his possession, and with that he was justified in having confidence in his powers of attack and defense.
But suddenly, he recalled the stories he had heard of the strange monster that haunted this portion of the North-West.
“It’s worse nor the divil,” he muttered, “fur it’s that, be the howly Vargin!”
This discovery caused the Irishman some little trepidation, but, at the same time, he was rather pleased that he was about to have an opportunity to try his gun upon it.
Indeed, as the nameless beast continued his leisurely advance, his appearance would have struck terror into the heart of any one. The fantastic, extraordinary hue of its body and legs, the immense tail curved over the back, and its ponderous build, were such that, once seen, no one ever could forget them.
“An’ they say he ates min whole,” thought Teddy, as he silently drew his rifle around in front of him. “His head is big enough, be the powers! Wonder, now, if he isn’t a shark that’s immigrating from the Atlantic to the Pacific.”
The fearful brute continued his leisurely advance, as if he saw not, or, at least, cared not for the man who was seated almost in his path. His course was such that, if unchanged for a few seconds longer, would lead him about a rod to one side of the amazed hunter.
The latter, as may well be supposed, scrutinized it most sharply as it approached, and under the dim light of the moon, he had a good opportunity to notice its characteristics.