Throwing back his blanket he rose and
whispered to the dog. Chance came to him obediently. Sundown saw that
the dog was trembling. He motioned him back and stepped to the door.
His slumbers had served to restore him to himself in a measure. His
old timidity became manifest as he hesitated, listening. In the
absolute silence of the night he thought he heard a shuffling as of
something being dragged across the enclosure. Tense with anticipating
he knew not what, he listened. Again he heard that peculiar slithering
sound. He opened the door an inch and peered out. In the pallid glow
of the moon he beheld a shapeless object that seemed to be crawling
toward him. Something in the helpless attitude of the object suggested
Sinker as he had risen on his arm, endeavoring to tell of the disaster
which had overtaken him. With a gesture of scorn at his own fear he
swung open the door. Chance crept at his heels, whining. Then Sundown
stepped out and stood gazing at the strange figure on the ground. Not
until a groan of agony broke the utter silence did he realize that the
night had brought to him a man, wounded and suffering terribly.
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