“You can shoot as it jumps the fence,” said Mark, “if it comes: it will stop a minute on the top.”
Unless they can clear a fence, animals pause a moment on the top before they leap down. They went back to the open shed with a feeling that it would be best to be some way inside the fence, and so have a view of the creature before it sprang. Mark picked up an axe, for he had no weapon but a second arrow which he had in his hand: the axe was the most effective weapon there was after the gun. They stood under the shed, watching the top of the stockade and waiting.
Till now they had looked upon the unknown as a stealthy thief only, but when Pan recoiled they knew it must be something more.
“It might jump down from the cliff,” said Bevis.
While they watched the semi-circular fence in front the creature might steal round to the cliff and leap down on the roof of the hut. Mark stepped out and looked along the verge of the sand cliff. He could see up through the runners of the brambles which hung over the edge, and there was nothing there. Looking up like this he could see the pale stars above the mist. It was not a deep mist—it was like a layer on the ground, impenetrable to the eye longitudinally, but partially transparent vertically. Returning inside, Mark stooped and examined Pan, who had crept at their heels. There were no scratches on him.
“He’s not hurt,” said Mark. “No teeth or claws.”
“But he had a pat, didn’t he?”
“I thought so—how he yelled! But you look, there’s no blood. Perhaps the thing hit him without putting its claws out.”
“They slip out when they strike,” said Bevis, meaning that as wild beasts strike their claws involuntarily extend from the sheaths. He looked, Pan was not hurt; Mark felt his ribs too, and said that none were broken. There were no fragments of fur or hair about his mouth, no remnants of a struggle.
“I don’t believe he fought at all,” said Bevis. “He stopped—he never went near.”