The animal was lying on its side, its feet scraping feebly against the side of the stall. The heaving, foam-flecked body was a mass of hideous bruises, some of which were bleeding profusely. The creature seemed to be in the last stage of exhaustion, lying with lips drawn back and eyes closed. Beneath it and scattered all over the stall floor was a thick layer of some whitish seeds. "That's--why that's sunflower seed, Horace!" Handlon almost whimpered. "And look! Look in that crib! It's full of the same stuff! Where's the hay, Horace? Does this thing--" He was interrupted by a mighty movement of the beast--a threshing that nearly blinded the men in the cloud of bloodstained seeds it raised. With something between a curse and a sob, the mule lunged at its crib as if attempting to get bodily into it. But no: it was only trying to perch on its edge! Now it had succeeded. The ungainly beast hung there a second, two, three. From its uplifted throat issued that usually innocuous phrase, a phrase now a thing of delirious horror: "Pretty Polly!" With a crash the tortured creature fell to the floor, to lie there gasping and moaning. Skip Handlon left that barn. Perry retained just enough wit to do what he should have done the instant he first saw the animal. He whipped out his automatic and fired one merciful shot. Then he too started for the outside. He arrived in the yard perhaps ten seconds behind Handlon. "Good Heavens, Perry," gibbered Handlon. "I'm not going to stay around this place another minute. Just let me find where I left that suffering camera, that's all I ask." "Easy now." Perry laid a hand on his companion's shoulder. "I guess we're up against something pretty fierce here, but we're going to see it through, and you know it. So let's cut out the flight talk and go raise the Professor." Handlon tried earnestly to don a look of determination. If Perry was set on staying here the least he could do was stay with him. However, could Perry have foreseen the events which were to entangle them, he probably would have led the race to the gate. As it was, he grasped a stick and marched bravely up toward the front door. * * * * * A sudden commotion behind him caused him to wheel sharply around. Simultaneously a yell burst from Handlon. "Look out, Horace!" What he saw almost froze the blood in his veins. From a tumbledown coach house had issued an enormous wolf-hound which was now almost upon then, eyes flaming, fangs gleaming horribly.