“How long have I been awake?”
It must have been one long stupor of many, many hours, for the fire was very low, shedding merely a soft warm glow through the place.
He was stupefied, and felt unable to move, but the fancy upon which he had fallen asleep was there still in a strange confused way, and he felt that the dog was not in the spot where he had left it.
He lay with his eyes half-closed, conscious now of some sound which had awakened him. For there beyond the glowing embers, where all was made indistinct and strange, the dog was hard at work tearing a way out of the hut. The wood snapped and grated as it was torn away; then there was silence, and he was half disposed as he lay there helpless to think it was all a dream.
But as this fancy came the noise began once more, and at last he caught sight of the great dog, strong and sturdy now, crawling through a hole it had made into the hut—what for he could not make out in his feverish state. Why should it have done this to get at him when already there?
He knew it was all wrong, and that his brain was touched; but one thing was plain reality: There was the great beast, magnified by the light of the fire, creeping forward while he lay paralysed and unable to stir.