For Wapi the long night had ceased to be a hell
of ghastly emptiness, and to her voice and the touch of her hand he
responded with a whine that was the whine of a white man's dog. They had
traveled two-thirds of the distance to the ship when he stopped in his
tracks and sniffed the wind that was coming from shore. A second time he
did this, and a third, and the third time Dolores turned with him and
faced the direction from which they had come. A low growl rose in Wapi's
throat, a snarl of menace with a note of warning in it.
"What is it, Wapi?" whispered Dolores. She heard his long fangs click,
and under her hand she felt his body grow tense. "What is it?" she
repeated.
A thrill, a suspicion, shot into her heart as they went on. A fourth time
Wapi faced the shore and growled before they reached the ship. Like
shadows they went up over the ice bridge. Dolores did not enter the cabin
but drew Wapi behind it so they could not be seen. Ten minutes, fifteen,
and suddenly she caught her breath and fell down on her knees beside
Wapi, putting her arms about his gaunt shoulders. "Be quiet," she
whispered. "Be quiet."
Up out of the night came a dark and grotesque shadow. It paused below the
bridge, then it came on silently and passed almost without sound toward
the captain's quarters. It was Blake. Dolores' heart was choking her. Her
arms clutched Wapi, whispering for him to be quiet, to be quiet.
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