CHAPTER XIX. THE WEREWOLF.
At the very moment when Photogen caught up Nycteris, the telescope ofWatho was angrily sweeping the table-land. She swung it from her inrage, and running to her room, shut herself up. There she anointedherself from top to toe with a certain ointment; shook down her longred hair, and tied it round her waist; then began to dance, whirlinground and round faster and faster, growing angrier and angrier, untilshe was foaming at the mouth with fury. When Falca went looking forher, she could not find her anywhere.
As the sun rose, the wind slowly changed and went round, until it blewstraight from the north. Photogen and Nycteris were drawing near theedge of the forest, Photogen still carrying Nycteris, when she moved alittle on his shoulder uneasily, and murmured in his ear,
"I smell a wild beast--that way, the way the wind is coming."
Photogen turned, looked back towards the castle, and saw a dark speckon the plain. As he looked, it grew larger: it was coming across thegrass with the speed of the wind. It came nearer and nearer. It lookedlong and low, but that might be because it was running at a greatstretch. He set Nycteris down under a tree, in the black shadow of itsbole, strung his bow, and picked out his heaviest, longest, sharpestarrow. Just as he set the notch on the string, he saw that thecreature was a tremendous wolf, rushing straight at him. He loosenedhis knife in its sheath, drew another arrow half-way from the quiver,lest the first should fail, and took his aim--at a good distance, toleave time for a second chance. He shot. The arrow rose, flewstraight, descended, struck the beast, and started again into the air,doubled like a letter V. Quickly Photogen snatched the other, shot,cast his bow from him, and drew his knife. But the arrow was in thebrute's chest, up to the feather; it tumbled heels over head with agreat thud of its back on the earth, gave a groan, made a struggle ortwo, and lay stretched out motionless.
"I've killed it, Nycteris," cried Photogen. "It is a great red wolf."
"Oh, thank you!" answered Nycteris feebly from behind the tree. "I wassure you would. I was not a bit afraid."
Photogen went up to the wolf. It _was_ a monster! But he was vexedthat his first arrow had behaved so badly, and was the less willing tolose the one that had done him such good service: with a long and astrong pull, he drew it from the brute's chest. Could he believe hiseyes? There lay--no wolf, but Watho, with her hair tied round herwaist! The foolish witch had made herself invulnerable, as shesupposed, but had forgotten that, to torment Photogen therewith, shehad handled one of his arrows. He ran back to Nycteris and told her.
She shuddered and wept, and would not look.