At that instant Ben’s muscles snapped into action.  Only a second remained in which to make his defense—­the creature had paused, setting his muscles for a death-dealing charge.  “Go back into the cave—­as far as you can,” he said swiftly to Beatrice.  His own eyes, squinted and straining for the last iota of vision in that darkened scene, made a last, frantic search for his rifle.  Suddenly he saw the gleam of its barrel as it rested against the wall of the cliff, fifteen feet distant.

At once he knew that his only course was to spring for it in the instant that remained, and trust to its mighty shocking power to stop the charge that would in a moment ensue.  Yet it seemed to tear the life fiber of the man to do it.  His inmost instincts, urgent and loud in his ear, told him to remain on guard, not to leave that cavern maw for an instant but to protect with his own body the precious life that it sheltered.  His mind worked with that incredible speed that is usually manifest in a crisis; and he knew that the creature might charge into the cavern entrance in the second that he left it.  Yet only in the rifle lay the least chance or hope for either of them.

“At him, Fenris!” he shouted.  The wolf leaped forward like a thrown spear,—­almost too fast for the eye to follow.  He was deathly afraid, with full knowledge of the power of the enemy he went to combat, but his fears were impotent to restrain him at the first sound of that masterful voice.  These were the words he had waited for.  He could never disobey such words as these—­from the lips of his god.  And Ben’s mind had worked true; he knew that the wolf could likely hold the creature at bay until he could seize his rifle.

In an instant it was in his hands, and he had sprung back to his post in front of the cavern maw.  And presently he remembered, heartsick, that the weapon was not loaded.

For his own safety he had kept it empty on the outward journey, partly to prevent accident, partly to be sure that his prisoner could not turn it against him.  But he had shells in the pocket of his jacket.  His hand groped, but his reaching fingers found but one shell, dropping it swiftly into the gun.  And now he knew that no time remained to seek another.  The beast in the darkness had launched into the charge.

Thereafter there was only a great confusion, event piled upon event with incredible rapidity, and a whole lifetime of stress and fear lived in a single instant.  The creature’s first lunge carried him into the brighter moonlight; and at once Ben recognized its breed.  No woodsman could mistake the high, rocking shoulders, the burly form, the wicked ears laid back against the flat, massive head, the fangs gleaming white, the long, hooked claws slashing through the turf as he ran.  It was a terrible thing to see and stand against, in the half-darkness.  The shadows accentuated the towering outline; and forgotten terrors, lurking, since the world was young, in the labyrinth of the germ plasm wakened and spread like icy streams through the mortal body and seemed to threaten to extinguish the warm flame of the very soul.