The sense of some strange bird-creature hovering a few yards from his face in the darkness was indescribably unpleasant to Woodhouse.  As his thought returned he concluded that it must be some night-bird or large bat.  At any risk he would see what it was, and pulling a match from his pocket, he tried to strike it on the telescope seat.  There was a smoking streak of phosphorescent light, the match flared for a moment, and he saw a vast wing sweeping towards him, a gleam of grey-brown fur, and then he was struck in the face and the match knocked out of his hand.  The blow was aimed at his temple, and a claw tore sideways down to his cheek.  He reeled and fell, and he heard the extinguished lantern smash.  Another blow followed as he fell.  He was partly stunned, he felt his own warm blood stream out upon his face.  Instinctively he felt his eyes had been struck at, and, turning over on his face to protect them, tried to crawl under the protection of the telescope.  He was struck again upon the back, and he heard his jacket rip, and then the thing hit the roof of the observatory.  He edged as far as he could between the wooden seat and the eyepiece of the instrument, and turned his body round so that it was chiefly his feet that were exposed.  With these he could at least kick.  He was still in a mystified state.  The strange beast banged about in the darkness, and presently clung to the telescope, making it sway and the gear rattle.  Once it flapped near him, and he kicked out madly and felt a soft body with his feet.  He was horribly scared now.  It must be a big thing to swing the telescope like that.  He saw for a moment the outline of a head black against the starlight, with sharply-pointed upstanding ears and a crest between them.  It seemed to him to be as big as a mastiffs.  Then he began to bawl out as loudly as he could for help.

At that the thing came down upon him again.  As it did so his hand touched something beside him on the floor.  He kicked out, and the next moment his ankle was gripped and held by a row of keen teeth.  He yelled again, and tried to free his leg by kicking with the other.  Then he realised he had the broken water-bottle at his hand, and, snatching it, he struggled into a sitting posture, and feeling in the darkness towards his foot, gripped a velvety ear, like the ear of a big cat.  He had seized the water-bottle by its neck and brought it down with a shivering crash upon the head of the strange beast.  He repeated the blow, and then stabbed and jobbed with the jagged end of it, in the darkness, where he judged the face might be.

The small teeth relaxed their hold, and at once Woodhouse pulled his leg free and kicked hard.  He felt the sickening feel of fur and bone giving under his boot.  There was a tearing bite at his arm, and he struck over it at the face, as he judged, and hit damp fur.