In the silence that followed the long-drawn cry, a feeling of chill fear crept over me. The Loup-garou, was the one wild beast of all the woods that unnerved the Indian. For him it was more evil spirit than beast. It went, according to the belief, through the tree tops like lightning: it seemed to come and go on the wind; from it there was no escape; the giant moose, the bear, the deer, in one case a farmer and his team of oxen far in the woods--I had heard the story told and retold on the river--all had been fallen upon and eaten in a single hour. The memory of these tales was far from comforting. The governor was lost in the woods. Colonel Francklin, Doctor Canfield and Duncan Hale were as ignorant of the forest as children. The Indians, my only hope, stood terrified. What was I to do? At that moment, distant at first, then swelling louder and nearer, down through the trees now swaying in the gentle evening breeze, clear, weird, paralysing, there came again, the long-drawn, dreadful sound. There was no mistaking it; it was the Loup-garou. Both Indians dropped on their knees, and turned their faces up to the stars. The sound came at intervals seven times; then it grew faint in the east, and we heard it no more. Far into the night we fired off guns, shouted and kept torches burning on tree tops. But the governor did not come. Had the fierce Loup-garou, that dread, strange blend of panther, wolf, and devil, fallen upon him? A keen feeling of responsibility pressed heavily upon me. In a sense the governor was my guest. He had come to this particular part of the forest at my suggestion. I knew what it would mean in Britain, I understood the derision that would be provoked in the United States, I felt how our new province would suffer, when it went abroad that our first governor had been eaten by a strange, half-devil fiend of the forest. And yet what was to be done? The next day Emile and Louis were silent, morose and fearful; they could not be induced to go more than a few rods from the tent. They spent most of the time praying. All our efforts to trace out and bring back our distinguished fellow-sportsman proved unavailing. When afternoon came, I made a proposal. 'You remain here,' I said, addressing Colonel Francklin, Doctor Canfield and Duncan Hale, 'and I will go up the stream and call out the portage for assistance. Father Bourg and David Elton both know the woods. I shall get them to organise searching parties, so that we may scour the country. The governor must be found.' 'Very well,' Colonel Francklin said; then, after some further consulting, I was off.