nd for one who followed.

During their stay at the hut, nothing had come near to disturb
them--nothing in human guise. But from the first they had been aware
of the timber-wolf, which Spurling had seen on his first visit and had
described to Granger. It had not shown itself in the daytime and had
rarely been seen in its entirety at night; but they had known that it
was near them by the rustling of the bushes, and had at times caught a
glimpse of its shadow, or of its eyes looking out at them from under
cover.

Even when they had not heard it, they had come across its footprints.
Towards the dawn, had one of them risen early and strayed far from
camp, he had sometimes seen it cross his path ahead, or had heard it
tracking him. So nervous had they become, that they had never stirred
far from one another; while one had slept, the other had kept watch.
Perhaps this dread of a constant menacer, and the more terrible fear
of being left alone in its presence, had prevented bloodshed when
their more furious quarrels were at their height. Of a mere wolf, no
man who is armed need have terror; their discomfort arose from the
suspicion that this creature, which watched and lay in wait for them,
was more than an animal.

There had been a night when it was Spurling's turn to keep guard, and
he had slept. Granger had wakened with a nervous sense of peril.
Through the open door of the hut he had seen the silver of the
moonlight in the tree-tops across the river and had seen the outline
of his companion stretched along the ground. As he watched, he had
seen a shadow fall across the threshold, followed by a head. It was
grey in colour, the ears were laid back, and the fangs were bared as
if with hunger. But it was the eyes which had absorbed his attention.
They were angry and reproachful; he had seen them before--they were
the eyes of a man whose soul is dead. They recalled to him that night
when Beorn had declared himself. That he recognised them, as he
admitted to himself when daylight was come, may have been only fancy;
but the impression which he had while he gazed on them was very real.
Moreover, he saw distinctly the scar of the wound which Spurling had
inflicted in his fight at the cache. Then the head had been withdrawn,
and the hut had been darkened by a huge form which stood across the
doorway. He had heard Spurling turn over on his side, rouse up and cry
out.

The form had crouched and sprung, and the light shone in again