“Did you see it?” he whispered. “It’s coming, I think.”
“Yes; but be quiet, for your life!” Sheriff Parker leaned forward and shifted his grip on the hose nozzle.
For several minutes all was silent, then came a faint patter of stealthy feet, and something like the sniffing of a hound sounded below them, while the ferns waved violently, although there was no breeze. Almost immediately came the sounds of lapping in the water—sounds exactly like those made by a thirsty dog when drinking.
Taking careful aim with the nozzle, Sheriff Parker suddenly pumped out a steady stream of whitewash which began to splash and spatter on the edge of the pool and surface of the water. And, as the milky liquid began to fall, the two watchers saw a strange and wonderful thing. In a spot, which ten seconds before had been merely opaque darkness, an outline grew up and took shape out of the ground; a strange, monstrous, misshapen thing, squat and hairy, not unlike a huge wolf in general appearance, but broader and more powerful than any wolf either man had ever seen.
For an instant after the whitewash began to fall upon it, the thing turned a big-jawed, hairy face in the direction of the tree; then, with a horrible snarl of fury, which both men plainly heard, it charged toward them.
“Shoot! Shoot, Horace!” Sheriff Parker yelled, dropping the useless nozzle and grabbing his gun.
The two heavy guns, charged with double loads of buckshot, roared out almost together. There was a coughing snarl from the thing on the ground, which save for a white patch or two, was almost invisible again, and the sound of convulsive struggling; then the sheriff fired a second time. Almost immediately there was a heavy splash in the water; then absolute silence.
Doctor Morse wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand.
“Did we get it?” he asked in a low tone.
“Yes, I’m almost sure of it.” Sheriff Parker, though tremendously excited, began to lower himself to the ground. “No animal of the wolf type could stand up against three charges of buckshot at less than a dozen yards,” he declared. “I believe it is dead, Horace.”