The next morning I went out to work Tsan-Lo. Nothing, as far as I could see, had changed. Tsan-Lo, his steady yellow eyes unblinking, lay on the ground. Buck watched him, maintaining a steady vigil where the big Chesapeake was at no time out of his sight. Except that they were a little quieter than usual, the other dogs were normal. With the training collar in my hand, I stood for a moment before the door of Tsan-Lo's run.
And then I left it, ran away with the collar in my hand to some place where I could on longer see that yellow sphinx. I told myself that it was too early to begin, the dog should have time to adjust itself to its new home. But I knew the real reason. I was afraid, very much afraid. There was something about that immovable hellion to inspire fear.
It was early evening before I screwed my courage up to the point where I could return. And, in addition to the training collar, I carried a baseball bat. I knew that I had to go in that cage, or I would never again dare call myself a dog trainer. But I was going to be prepared which I did. I opened the door and stepped in.
Without seeming to move at all Tsan-Lo hurled himself up and out in a springing, savage leap straight at my throat. But luck was on my side. The swung bat collided suddenly with the side of his head and he dropped to lie twitching on the ground. I left him there and walked away.
I was awakened the next morning by an eerie sense of something unreal and terrible. I fought to adjust myself, and rose on the bed to peer out. I could see nothing except a yellow mass of something plastered against the window, and I fell back on the bed. Strangely, at the same time, I had a curious sensation of being both awake and in full possession of my senses, and in the grip of some awful nightmare. I was vaguely aware of a noise outside, and finally identified it positively as Buck's raging voice. There was a heavy, nauseous scent in my nostrils, but finally I shook myself awake and leaped out of bed. Just at that moment the window shattered and the terrible, complete reality of what was outside burst upon me with all the sharpness of a stinging whip lash.
I tried to run, to escape from the bedroom into the kitchen and get my hands on the revolver I kept there. But the great jaws that were thrust through the open window opened and closed on my pajamas. I was dragged back through the window and dropped to the grass beneath it. I lay motionless there, unable to cry out, or move, or do anything except stare.
Tsan-Lo stood over me, and even my most horrible nightmares had never painted a picture so terrible. As he squatted there, the top of his head touched the top of the second-story window. His yellow, expressionless eyes were big as saucers. He panted slightly, and the fangs over which his lips were curled were a full six inches long. His paws were the size of elephant's feet, and still all I could do was lie and stare. It had happened, as Ibellius Grut's book had said it could! Something—! Somehow—!
My shocked brain began to function, and for some reason I remembered an excerpt from Grut's letter. "I have experimented on Tsan-Lo myself." He had! Indeed he had! And the tap on the head I had given Tsan-Lo last night had set in active motion all the hellish things
