The Were-Wolf
the wind drops there will be more snow," thought Sweyn.
For the best part of an hour he kept his watch, and saw no living thing— heard no unwonted sound. "I will freeze here no longer," he muttered, and re-entered.
One woman gave a half-suppressed scream as his hand was laid on the latch, and then a gasp of relief as he came in. No one questioned him, only his mother said, in a tone of forced unconcern, "Could you not see Christian coming?" as though she were made anxious only by the absence of her younger son. Hardly had Sweyn stamped near to the fire than clear knocking was heard at the door. Tyr leapt from the hearth, his eyes red as the fire, his fangs showing white in the black jowl, his neck ridged and bristling; and overleaping Rol, ramped at the door, barking furiously.
Outside the door a clear mellow voice
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