Half way up, they halted, though not to take breath. Strong-limbed, long-winded lads like them—who could have "swarmed" in two minutes to the main truck of a man-o'-war—needed no such indulgence as that. Instead of one hundred feet of sloping sand, any one of them could have scaled Snowdon without stopping to look back.

Their halt had been made from a different motive. It was sudden and simultaneous,—all three having stopped at the same time, and without any previous interchange of speech. The same cause had brought them to that abrupt cessation in their climbing; and as they stood side by side, aligned upon one another, the eyes of all three were turned on the same object.

It was an animal,—a quadruped. It could not be anything else if belonging to a sublunary world; and to this it appeared to belong. A strange creature notwithstanding; and one which none of the three remembered to have met before. The remembrance of something like it flitted across their brains, seen upon the shelves of a museum; but not enough of resemblance to give a clue for its identification.

The quadruped in question was not bigger than a "San Bernard," a "Newfoundland," or a mastiff: but seen as it was, it loomed larger than any of the three. Like these creatures, it was canine in shape—lupine we should rather say—but of an exceedingly grotesque and ungainly figure. A huge square head seemed set without neck upon its shoulders; while its fore limbs—out of all proportion longer than the hind ones—gave to the spinal column a sharp downward slant towards the tail. The latter appendage, short and "bunchy," ended abruptly, as if either cut or "driven in,"—adding to the uncouth appearance of the animal. A stiff hedge of hard bristles upon the back continued its chevaux de frise along the short, thick neck, till it ended between two erect tufted ears. Such was the shape of the beast that had suddenly presented itself to the eyes of our adventurers.

They had a good opportunity of observing its outlines. It was on the ridge towards the crest of which they were advancing. The moon was shining beyond. Every turn of its head or body—every motion made by its limbs—was conspicuously revealed against the luminous background of the sky.

It was neither standing, nor at rest in any way. Head, limbs, and body were all in motion,—constantly changing, not only their relative attitudes to one another, but their absolute situation in regard to surrounding objects.

And yet the change was anything but arbitrary. The relative movements made by the members of the animal's body, as well as the absolute alterations of position, were all in obedience to strictly natural laws,—all repetitions of the same manoeuvre, worked with a monotony that seemed mechanical.

The creature was pacing to and fro, like a well-trained sentry,—its "round" being the curved crest of the sand-ridge, from which it did not deviate to the licence of an inch. Backward and forward did it traverse the saddle in a longitudinal direction,—now poised upon the pommel,—now sinking downward into the seat, and then rising to the level of the coup,—now turning in the opposite direction, and retracing in long, uncouth strides, the path over which it appeared to have been passing since the earliest hour of its existence!

Independent of the surprise which the presence of this animal had created, there was something in its aspect calculated to cause terror. Perhaps, had the mids known what kind of creature it was, or been in any way apprized of its real character, they would have paid less regard to its presence. Certainly not so much as they did: for, instead of advancing upon it, and making their way over the crest of the ridge, they stopped in their track, and held a whispered consultation as to what they should do.

It is not to be denied that the barrier before them presented a formidable appearance. A brute, it appeared as big as a bull—for magnified by the moonlight, and perhaps a little by the fears of those who looked upon it, the quadruped was quite quadrupled in size. Disputing their passage too; for its movements made it manifest that such was its design. Backwards and forwards, up and down that curving crest, did it glide, with a nervous quickness, that hindered any hope of being able to rush past it—either before or behind—its own crest all the while erected, like that of the dragon subdued by St. George.

With all his English "pluck"—even stimulated by this resemblance to the national knight—Harry Blount felt shy to approach that creature that challenged the passage of himself and his companions.

Had there been no danger en arriÈre, perhaps our adventurers would have turned back into the valley, and left the ugly quadruped master of the pass.

As it was, a different resolve was arrived at—necessity being the dictator.

The three midshipmen, drawing their dirks, advanced in line of battle up the slope. The Devil himself could scarce withstand such an assault. England, Scotland, Ireland, abreast—tres juncti in uno—united in thought, aim, and action—was there aught upon earth—biped, quadruped, or mille-pied—that must not yield to the charge?

If there was, it was not that animal oscillating along the saddle of sand, progressing from pommel to cantle, like the pendulum of a clock.

Whether natural or supernatural, long before our adventurers got near enough to decide, the creature, to use a phrase of very modern mention, "skedaddled," leaving them free—so far as it was concerned—to continue their retreat unmolested.

It did not depart, however, until after delivering a salute, that left our adventurers in greater doubt than ever of its true character. They had been debating among themselves whether it was a thing of the earth, of time, or something that belonged to eternity. They had seen it under a fair light, and could not decide. But now that they had heard it,—had listened to a strain of loud cachinnation,—scarce mocking the laughter of the maniac,—there was no escaping from the conclusion that what they had seen was either Satan himself, or one of his Ethiopian satellites!