A horde of mounted Blackfeet, or a dozen grizzly bears, could not have created greater consternation. Old Stebbins and Black Tom, as will be remembered, had been conversing about the mysterious creature, and their minds were full of it.
Instantly they leaped to their feet, and stared out in the gloom.
“Whar is he?” demanded Black Tom.
“Close behint me,” replied the terrified Irishman, running around to the opposite side of the camp-fire.
“I don’t see him—b’ars and bufflers! thar he comes!”
Unconsciously the two trappers took their position side by side. They had stood by each other in many fearful and dangerous scenes, and neither would desert the other at this time.
As Tom spoke, both he and his companion caught sight of the hideous brute, coming through the bushes straight toward them. It was walking quite slowly, and at intervals gave forth that peculiar bark, which had a strange, cavernous sound.
Viewed from the front, its appearance was appalling in the extreme. Its head was of vast size, its mouth in latitude resembled that of the alligator. As it advanced, the firelight shone full in its face, and curiously enough neither of the hunters could discern any thing that resembled eyes, although of course it was sentient.
Very naturally the two trappers had determined to send their messengers into his eyes, satisfied that, if there was nothing superhuman in its make, it could not prove invulnerable to such an attack; but they were unexpectedly deprived of this great advantage, seeing which Black Tom whispered to his companion: