As they drew nearer I tried to move, but was powerless, although I could see and hear all that went on around me. Two or three of the soldiers jumped from their horses and knelt beside me. One of them raised my head, and placed his hand over my heart. “Good news, comrades!” he cried. “His heart still beats!” Then some brandy was poured down my throat; it put vigour into me, and I was able to open my eyes fully and look around. Lights and shadows were moving among the trees, and I heard men call to one another. They drew together, uttering frightened exclamations; and the lights flashed as the others came pouring out of the cemetery pell-mell, like men possessed. When the further ones came close to us, those who were around me asked them eagerly: “Well, have you found him?” The reply rang out hurriedly: “No! no! Come away quick—quick! This is no place to stay, and on this of all nights!” “What was it?” was the question, asked in all manner of keys. The answer came variously and all indefinitely as though the men were moved by some common impulse to speak, yet were restrained by some common fear from giving their thoughts. “It—it—indeed!” gibbered one, whose wits had plainly given out for the moment. “A wolf—and yet not a wolf!” another put in shudderingly. “No use trying for him without the sacred bullet,” a third remarked in a more ordinary manner. “Serve us right for coming out on this night! Truly we have earned our thousand marks!” were the ejaculations of a fourth. “There was blood on the broken marble,” another said after a pause—“the lightning never brought that there. And for him—is he safe? Look at his throat! See, comrades, the wolf has been lying on him and keeping his blood warm.” The officer looked at my throat and replied: “He is all right; the skin is not pierced. What does it all mean? We should never have found him but for the yelping of the wolf.” “What became of it?” asked the man who was holding up my head, and who seemed the least panic-stricken of the party, for his hands were steady and without tremor. On his sleeve was the chevron of a petty officer. “It went to its home,” answered the man, whose long face was pallid, and who actually shook with terror as he glanced around him fearfully. “There are graves enough there in which it may lie. Come, comrades—come quickly! Let us leave this cursed spot.” The officer raised me to a sitting posture, as he uttered a word of command; then several men placed me upon a horse. He sprang to the saddle behind me, took me in his arms, gave the word to advance; and, turning our faces away from the cypresses, we rode away in swift, military order.