And both
hands were brought suddenly into play, in a mad snatch for the
prize. The ten avid fingers missed the bag; and came together
with clawing force. But, before they met, the finger tips of the
left hand telegraphed to the man's brain that they had had
momentary light experience with something hairy and warm,
--something that had slipped, eel-like, past them into the
night;--something that most assuredly was no satchel, but ALIVE!
The man's throat contracted, in gagging fright. And, as before,
fear scourged him to feverish rage.
Recklessly he pressed the flashlight's button; and swung the
muffled bar of light in every direction. In his other hand he
leveled the pistol he had drawn. This time the shaded ray
revealed to him not only his bag, but,--vaguely,--the Thing that
held it.
He could not make out what manner of creature it was which
gripped the satchel's handle and whose eyes pulsed back greenish
flares into the torch's dim glow. But it was an animal of some
kind;--distorted and formless in the wavering finger of blunted
light; but still an animal.
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