This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. The Camp of the Dog by Algernon Blackwood. Read by Charles Blakemore. The Camp of the Dog, Part 1. Islands of all shapes and sizes troop northward from Stockholm by the Hundred. And the little steamer that threads their intricate mazes in summer leaves the traveller in a somewhat bewildered state as regards the points of the compass when it reaches the end of its journey at Waxholm. But it is only after Waxholm that the true islands begin, so to speak, to run wild and start up the coast on their tangled course of a hundred miles of deserted loveliness. And it was in the very heart of this delightful confusion that we pitched our tents for a summer holiday. A veritable wilderness of islands lay about us. From the mere round button of rock that bore a single fir to the mountainous stretch of a square mile densely wooded and bounded by precipitous cliffs so close together often that a strip of water ran between no wider than a country lane or again so far that an expanse stretched like the open sea for miles. Although the larger islands boasted farms and fishing stations, the majority were uninhabited. Carpeted with moss and heather, their coastlines showed a series of ravines and clefts and little sandy bays with a growth of splendid pine woods that came down to the water's edge and led the eye through unknown depths of shadow and mystery into the very heart of primitive forest. The particular islands to which we had camping rights by virtue of paying a nominal sum to a Stockholm merchant lay together in a picturesque group far beyond the reach of the steamer. One being a mere reef with a fringe of fairy-like birches and two others, cliff-bound monsters rising with hooded heads out of the sea. The fourth, which we selected because it enclosed a little lagoon suitable for anchorage, bathing, nightlines, and what not shall have what description is necessary as the story proceeds. But so far as paying rent was concerned, we might equally have pitched our tents on any one of a hundred others that clustered about us as thickly as swarm of bees. It was in the blaze of an evening in July, the air clearest crystal, the sea a cobalt blue, when we left the steamer on the borders of civilization and sailed away with maps, compasses, and provisions for the little group of dots in the scaggard that were to be our home for the next two months. The dinghy in my Canadian canoe trailed behind us with tents and dunnage carefully piled aboard, and when the point of cliff intervened to hide the steamer in the Waxham Hotel, we realized for the first time that the horror of trains and houses was far behind us, the fever of men and cities, the weariness of streets and confined spaces. The wilderness opened up on all sides into endless blue reaches, and the map and compasses were so frequently called into requisition that we went astray more often than not, and progress was enchantingly slow. It took us, for instance, two whole days to find our crescent-shaped home, and the camps we made on the way were so fascinating that we left them with difficulty and regret, for each island seemed more desirable than the one before it, and overall lay the spell of haunting peace, remoteness from the turmoil of the world, and the freedom of open and desolate spaces. And so many of these spots of world beauty have I sought out and dwelt in that in my mind remains only a composite memory of their faces, a true map of heaven as it were, from which this particular one stands forth with unusual sharpness because of the strange things that happened there, and also, I think, because anything in which John Silence played a part has a habit of fixing itself in the mind with a living and lasting quality of vividness. For the moment, however, Dr. Silence was not of the party. Some private case in the interior of Hungary claimed his attention, and it was not till later, the 15th of August, to be exact, that I had arranged to meet him in Berlin and then return to London together for our harvest of winter work. All the members of our party, however, were known to him more or less well, and on this third day, whilst we sailed through the narrow opening into the lagoon and saw the circular ridge of trees in a golden crimson sunset before us, his last words to me when we parted in London for some unaccountable reason came back very sharply to my memory and recalled the curious impression of prophecy with which I had first heard them. Enjoy your holiday and store up all the force you can, he had said, as the train slipped out of Victoria, and we will meet in Berlin on the 15th, unless you should send for me sooner. And now suddenly the words returned to me so clearly that it seemed I almost heard his voice in my ear, unless you should send for me sooner. And returned, moreover, with the significance I was wholly at a loss to understand that touched somewhere in the depths of my mind a vague sense of apprehension that they had all along been intended in the nature of a prophecy. In the lagoon then the wind failed us this July evening, as was only natural behind the shelter of the belt of woods, and we took to the oars, all breathless with the beauty of this first sight of our island home, yet all talking in somewhat hushed voices of the best place to land, the depth of water, the safest place to anchor to put up the tents in, the most sheltered spot for the campfires, and a dozen things of importance that crop up when a home in the wilderness has actually to be made. And during this busy sunset hour of unloading before the dark, the souls of my companions adopted the trick of presenting themselves very vividly anew before my mind, and introducing themselves afresh. In reality I suppose our party was in no sense singular. In the conventional life at home they certainly seemed ordinary enough, but suddenly as we passed through these gates of the wilderness I saw them more sharply than before, with characters stripped of the atmosphere of men in cities. A complete change of setting often furnishes a startling new view of people hitherto held for well-known. They presented other facet of their personalities. I seemed to see my own party almost as new people, people I had not known properly hitherto, people who would drop all disguises and henceforth reveal themselves as they really were. And each one seemed to say, Now you will see me as I am. You will see me here in this primitive life of the wilderness without clothes, all my masks and bails I have left behind in the abodes of men. So look out for surprises. The Reverend Timothy Maloney helped me to put up the tenths, long practice making the process easy. And while he drove in pegs and tightened rope, his coat off, his flannel collar flying open without a tie, it was impossible to avoid the conclusion that he was cut out for the life of a pioneer rather than the church. He was fifty years of age, muscular, blue-eyed and hearty, and he took his share of the work and more without shirking. The way he handled the axe and cutting down saplings for the tent poles was a delight to see, and his eye and jutting the level was unfailing. Bullied as a young man into a lucrative family living, he had in turn bullied his mind into some semblance of orthodox beliefs, doing the honors of the little country church with an energy that made one think of a coal-heaver tending China. And it was only in the past few years that he had resigned the living instead to cramming young men for their examinations. This suited him better. It enabled him, too, to indulge his passion for spells of wild life and to spend the summer months of most years under canvas in one part of the world or another where he could take his young men with him and combine reading with open air. His wife usually accompanied him, and there was no doubt she enjoyed the trips, for she possessed, though in a less degree, the same joy of the wilderness that was his own distinguishing characteristic. The only difference was that while he regarded it as the real life, she regarded it as an interlude. While he camped out with his heart and mind, she played at camping out with her clothes and body. Nonetheless, she made a splendid companion, and to watch her busy cooking dinner over the fire we had built among the stones was to understand that her heart was in the business for the moment and that she was happy even with the detail. Mrs. Maloney at home, knitting in the sun and believing that the world was made in six days, was one woman. But Mrs. Maloney, standing with bare arms over the smoke of a wood fire under the pine trees, was another.  She ordered him about like a slave, and he obeyed, too, with willing pleasure. For in spite of his general appearance of debility, he was as happy to be in camp as any of them. But more than any other member of the party, Joan Maloney, the daughter, was the one who seemed a natural and genuine part of the landscape, who belonged to it all just in the same way that the trees and the moss and the gray rocks running out into the water belonged to it. For she was obviously in her right and natural setting, a creature of the wilds, a gypsy in her own home. To anyone with a discerning eye, this would have been more or less apparent. But to me, who had known her during all the twenty-two years of her life and was familiar with the ins and outs of her primitive, utterly unmodern type, it was strikingly clear. To see her there made it impossible to imagine her again in civilization. I lost all recollection of how she looked in a town. The memory somehow evaporated. This slim creature before me, flitting to and fro with the grace of the woodland life, swift, supple, adroit, on her knees blowing the fire or stirring the frying pan through a veil of smoke, suddenly seemed the only way I had ever really seen her. Here she was at home. In London she became someone concealed by clothes, an artificial doll overdressed and moving by clockwork, only a portion of her alive. Here she was alive all over. I forgot altogether how she was dressed, just as I forgot how any particular tree was dressed or how the markings ran on any one of the boulders that lay about the camp. She looked just as wild and natural and untamed as everything else that went to make up the scene, and more than that I cannot say. Pretty she was decidedly not. She was thin, skinny, dark-haired, and possessed of great physical strength in the form of endurance. She had, too, something of the force and vigorous purpose of a man, tempestuous sometimes, and wild to passionate, frightening her mother, and puzzling her easygoing father with her storms of waywardness, while at the same time she stirred his admiration by her violence, a pagan of the pagans she was besides, and with some haunting suggestion of old-world pagan beauty about her dark face and eyes, altogether an odd and difficult character, but with a generosity and high courage that made her very lovable. In town life she always seemed to me to feel cramped, bored, a devil in a cage, and in her eyes a hunted expression, as though any moment she dreaded to be caught. But up in these spacious solitudes all this disappeared, away from the limitations that plagued and stung her. She would show at her best, and as I watched her moving about the camp I repeatedly found myself thinking of a wild creature that had just obtained its freedom and was trying its muscles. Peter sangry, of course, at once went down before her, but she was so obviously beyond his reach, and besides so well able to take care of herself that I think her parents gave the matter but little thought, and he himself worshipped at a respectful distance, keeping admirable control of his passion in all respects save one. For at his age the eyes are difficult to master, and the yearning, almost the devouring expression often visible in them was probably there, unknown even to himself. He, better than anyone else, understood that he had fallen in love with something most hard of attainment, something that drew him to the very edge of life and almost beyond it. It, no doubt, was the secret and terrible joy to him, this passionate worship from afar. Only I think he suffered more than anyone guessed, and that his want of vitality was due in large measure to the constant stream of unsatisfied yearning that poured forever from his soul and body. Moreover it seemed to me, who now saw them for the first time together, that there was an unnameable something, an elusive quality of some kind, that marked them as belonging to the same world, and that although the girl ignored him, she was secretly and perhaps unknown to herself, drawn by some attribute very deep in her own nature to some quality equally deep in his. This, then, was the party when we first settled down into our two months' camp on the island in the Baltic Sea. Other figures flitted from time to time across the scene, and sometimes one reading man, sometimes another, came to join us and spent his four hours a day in the clergyman's tent. But they came for short periods only, and they went without leaving much trace in my memory, and certainly they played no important part in what subsequently happened. The weather favoured us that night so that by sunset the tents were up, the boats unloaded, a store of wood collected and chopped into lengths, and the candle lanterns hung round ready for lighting on the trees. Sangri, too, had picked deep mattresses of balsam boughs for the women's beds, and had cleared little paths of brushwood from their tents to the central fireplace. All was prepared for bad weather. It was a cozy supper and a well-cooked one that we sat down to and ate out of the stars, and according to the clergyman the only meal fit to eat we had seen since we left London a week before. The deep stillness after that roar of steamers, trains and tourists held something that thrilled. For as we lay round the fire there was no sound but the faint sighing of the pines and the soft lapping of the waves along the shore and against the sides of the boat and the lagoon. The ghostly outline of her white sails was just visible through the trees, idly rocking to and fro in her calm anchorage, her sheets flapping gently against the mast. Beyond lay the dim blue shapes of other islands, floating in the night, and from all the great spaces about us came the murmur of the sea and the soft breathing of great woods. The odours of the wilderness, smells of wind and earth, of trees and water, clean, vigorous and mighty, were the true odours of a virgin world unspilt by men, more penetrating and more subtly intoxicating than any other perfume in the whole world. Oh, and dangerously strong too, no doubt, for some natures. Ah, breathed out the clergyman after supper with an indescribable gesture of satisfaction and relief. Here there is freedom and room for body and mind to turn in. Here one can work and rest and play. Here one can be alive and absorb something of the earth forces that never get within touching distance in the cities. By George I shall make a permanent camp here and come when it is time to die. The good man was merely giving bent to his delight at being under canvas. He said the same thing every year and he said it often. He more or less expressed the superficial feelings of us all. And when a little later he turned to compliment his wife on the fried potatoes and discovered that she was snoring with her back against a tree, he grunted with content at the sight and put a ground-sheet over her feet. As if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to fall asleep after dinner and then moved back to his own corner smoking his pipe with great satisfaction. When I, smoking mine too, lay and fought against the most delicious sleep imaginable while my eyes wandered from the fire to the stars peeping through the branches and then back again to the group about me. The Reverend Timothy soon let his pipe go out and succumbed as his wife had done for he had worked hard and eaten well. Sangri, also smoking, leaned against a tree with his gaze fixed on the girl, a depth of yearning in his face that he could not hide and that really distressed me for him. And Joan herself, with wide staring eyes, alert, full of the new forces of the place, evidently keyed up by the magic of finding herself among all the things her soul recognized as home, sat rigid by the fire, her thoughts roaming through the spaces, the blood stirring about her heart. She was as unconscious of the Canadian's gaze as she was that her parents both slept. She looked to me more like a tree or something that had grown out of the island than a living girl of the century. And when I spoke across to her in a whisper and suggested a tour of investigation, she started and looked up at me as though she heard a voice in her dreams. Sangri leapt up and joined us and without waking the others, we three went over the ridge of the island and made our way down to the shore behind. The water lay like a lake before us, still colored by the sunset. The air was keen and scented, wafting the smell of the wooded islands that hung about us in the darkening air. Very small waves tumbled softly on the sand. The sea was sown with stars and everywhere breathed and pulsed the beauty of the northern summer night. I confess I speedily lost consciousness of the human presence beside me and I have little doubt Joan did too. Only Sangri felt otherwise, I suppose, for presently we heard him sighing and I can well imagine that he absorbed the whole wonder and passion of the scene into his aching heart to swell the pain there that was more searching even than the pain at the sight of such matchless and incomprehensible beauty. The splash of a fish jumping broke the spell. I wish we had the canoe now, remarked Joan, we could paddle out to the other islands. Of course I said, wait here and I'll go across for it. And was turning to field my way back through the darkness and she stopped me in a voice that meant what it said. No, Mr. Sangri will get it. We will wait here and Cui to guide him. The Canadian was off in a moment for she had only to hint of her wishes and he obeyed. Keep out from the shore in case of rocks, I cried out as he went, and turned to the right out of the lagoon it's the shortest way round by the map. My voice traveled across the still waters and woke echoes in the distant islands and came back to us like people calling out of space. It was only 30 or 40 yards over the ridge and down the other side to the lagoon where the boats lay, but it was a good mile to coast round the shore in the dark to where we stood and waited. We heard him stumbling away among the boulders and then the sounds suddenly ceased as he topped the ridge and went down past the fire on the other side. I didn't want to be left alone with him, the girl said presently in a low voice. I'm always afraid he's going to say something or do something. She hesitated a moment, looking quickly over her shoulder towards the ridge where he had just disappeared, something that might lead to unpleasantness. She stopped abruptly. You frightened Joan, I exclaimed, with genuine surprise. This is a new light on your wicked character. I thought the human being who could frighten you did not exist. Then I suddenly realized she was talking seriously, looking to me for help of some kind, and at once I dropped the teasing attitude. He's very far gone, I think, Joan, I added gravely. You must be kind to him. Whatever else you may feel, he's exceedingly fond of you. I know, but I can't help it, she whispered, lest her voice carry in the stillness. There's something about him that makes me feel creepy and half-afraid. But poor man, it's not his fault if he's delicate and sometimes looks like death. I laughed gently by way of defending what I felt to be a very innocent member of my sex. Oh, but it's not what I mean, she answered quickly. It's something I feel about him, something in his soul, something he hardly knows himself, but that may come out if we are much together. It draws me, I feel tremendously. It stirs what is wild in me deep down, very deep down, yet at the same time it makes me feel afraid. I suppose his thoughts are always playing about you, I said, but he's nice-minded, and yes, yes, she interrupted impatiently. I can trust myself absolutely with him, he's gentle and singularly pure-minded, but there's something else that she stopped again sharply to listen. Then she came up close beside me in the darkness with spring. You know, Mr. Hubbard, sometimes my intuitions warn me a little too strongly to be ignored. Oh, yes, you needn't tell me again that it's difficult to distinguish between fancy and intuition. I know all that. But I also know that there's something deep down in that man's soul that calls to something deep down in mine, and at present it frightens me, because I cannot make out what it is, and I know, I know he'll do something one day that will shake my life to the very bottom. She laughed a little at the strangeness of her own description. I turned to look at her more closely, but the darkness was too great to show her face. There was an intensity, almost a suppressed passion in her voice that took me completely by surprise. Nonsense, Joan, I said a little severely. You know him well. He's been with your father for months now. But that was in London, and up here it's different. I mean, I feel that it may be different. Life in a place like this blows away the restraints of the artificial life at home. I know, oh, I know what I'm saying. I feel all untied in a place like this. The rigidity of one's nature begins to melt and flow. Surely you must understand what I mean. Of course I understand, I replied, yet not wishing to encourage her in her present line of thought. And it's a grand experience for a short time. But you're overtired tonight, Joan, like the rest of us. A few days in this air will set you above all fears of the kind you mention. Then, after a moment's silence, I added, feeling that I should estrange your confidence altogether if I blundered any more and treated her like a child. I think perhaps the true explanation is that you pity him for loving you. And at the same time you feel the repulsion of the healthy, vigorous animal for what is weak and timid. If he came up boldly and took you by the throat and shouted he would force you to love him, well, then you would feel no fear at all. You would know exactly how to deal with him. Isn't it perhaps something of that kind? The girl made no reply, and when I took her hand I felt that it trembled a little and was cold. It's not his love that I'm afraid of, she said hurriedly, for at this moment we heard the dip of a paddle in the water. It's something in his very soul that terrifies me in a way I have never been terrified before. Yet fascinates me. In town I was hardly conscious of his presence. But the moment we got away from civilization it began to come. He seemed so real up here. I dread being alone with him. It makes me feel that something must burst and tear its way out, that he would do something or that I should do something.  Joan. Don't be alarmed. She laughed shortly. I shouldn't do anything silly, but I wanted to tell you my feelings in case I needed your help. When I have intuitions as strong as this they are never wrong. Only I don't know yet what it means exactly. You must hold up for the month at any rate, I said, as a matter of fact a voice as I could manage. For her manner had somehow changed my surprise to a subtle sense of alarm. Sangri only stays the month, you know.  I ended lamely with a forced laugh. She gave my hand a sudden pressure. I'm glad I've told you at any rate, she said quickly under her breath, for the canoe was now gliding up silently like a ghost to our feet. And I'm glad you're here too, she added, as we moved down towards the water to meet it. I made Sangri change into the boughs and got into the steering seat myself putting the girl between us so I could watch them both by keeping their outlines against the sea and stars. For the intuitions of certain folk, women and children usually I confess, I have always felt a great respect that has more often than not been justified by experience. And now the curious emotion stirred in me by the girl's words remained somewhat vividly in my consciousness. I explained it in some measure by the fact that the girl, tired out by the fatigue of many days' travel, had suffered a vigorous reaction of some kind from the strong desolate scenery and further perhaps that she'd been treated to my own experience of seeing the members of the party in a new light, the Canadian being partly a stranger, more vividly than the rest of us. But at the same time I felt it was quite possible that she had sensed some subtle link between his personality and her own, some quality that she had hitherto ignored and that the routine of town life had kept buried out of sight. The only thing that seemed difficult to explain was the fear she had spoken of and this I hoped the wholesome effects of camp life and exercise would sweep away naturally in the course of time. We made the tour of the island without speaking and was all too beautiful for speech. The trees crowded down to the shore to hear us pass. We saw their fine dark heads, bowed low with splendid dignity to watch us, forgetting for a moment that the stars were caught in the needled network of their hair. Against the sky in the west we're still lingered the sunset gold. We saw the wild toss of the horizon, shaggy with forest and cliff, gripping the heart like the motive in a symphony and sending the sense of beauty all a shiver through the mind. All these surrounding islands standing above the water like low clouds and like them seeming to post along silently into the engulfing night. We heard the musical drip-drip of the paddle and the little wash of our waves on the shore and then suddenly we found ourselves at the opening of the lagoon again, having made the complete circuit of our home. The Reverend Timothy had awakened from sleep and was singing to himself and the sound of his voice as we glided down the fifty yards of enclosed water was pleasant to hear and undeniably wholesome. We saw the glow of the fire up among the trees on the ridge and his shadow moving about as he threw on more wood.  Been setting the night-lines a capital and your mother's still fast asleep, Joan.  He had not been in the least disturbed by our absence for old campers are not easily alarmed. Now remember, he went on and we had told our little tale of travel by the fire and Mrs. Maloney had asked for the fourth time exactly where her tent was and whether the door faced east or south. Everyone takes their turn at cooking breakfast and one of the men is always out at sunrise to catch it first. Hubbard, I'll toss you what you do in the morning in which I do. He lost the toss. Then I'll catch it. I said, laughing, at his discomforture, for I knew he loathed stirring porridge. And mind you don't burn it as you did every blessed time last year on the vulgar I added by way of reminder. Mrs. Maloney's fifth interruption about the door of her tent and her further pointed observation that it was past nine o'clock set us lighting lanterns and putting the fire out for safety. But before we separated for the night the clergyman had a time-honored little ritual of his own to go through that no one had the heart to deny him. He always did this. He was very relic of his pulpit habits. He glanced briefly from one to the other of us, his face grave and earnest. His hands lifted to the stars and his eyes all closed and puckered up beneath a momentary frown. Then he offered up a short, almost inaudible prayer, thanking heaven for our safe arrival, begging for good weather, no illness or accidents, plenty of fish and strong sailing winds. And then unexpectedly no one knew exactly why. He ended up with an abrupt request that nothing from the kingdom of darkness should be allowed to afflict our peace. And no evil thing come near to disturb us in the night-time. And while he uttered these last surprising words, so strangely unlike his usual ending, a chance that I looked up and let my eyes wander round the group assembled about the dying fire. And it certainly seemed to me that the tree's face underwent a sudden and visible alteration. He was staring at Joan. And as he stared, the change ran over it like a shadow and was gone. I started in spite of myself for something oddly concentrated, potent, collected had come into the expression usually so scattered and feeble. But it was all swift as a passing meteor and when I looked a second time his face was normal and the tree's and Joan, luckily, had not observed him, her head being bowed and her eyes tightly closed while her father prayed. The girl has a vivid imagination, indeed, I thought, half laughing as I lit the lanterns, if her thoughts can put a glamour upon mine in this way. And yet somehow when we said good night I took occasion to give her a few vigorous words of encouragement to make sure I could find it quickly in the night in case anything happened. In her quick way the girl understood and thanked me and the last thing I heard as I moved off to the men's quarters was Mrs. Maloney crying that there were beetles in her tent and Joan's laughter as she went to help her turn them out. Half an hour later the island was silent as the grave but for the mournful voices of the wind as it sighed on the sea. Like white sentries stood the three tents of the men on one side of the ridge and on the other side half hidden by some birches whose leaves just shivered as the breeze caught them the women's tents, patches of ghostly gray gathered more closely together for mutual shelter and protection. Something like fifty yards of broken ground, gray rock, moss and lichen lay between and over all lay the curtain of the night and the great whispering winds from the forests of Scandinavia. And the very last thing just before floating away on that mighty wave that carries one so softly off into the deeps of forgetfulness I again heard the voice of John Silence as the train moved out of Victoria Station and by some subtle connection that met me on the very threshold of consciousness there rose in my mind simultaneously the memory of the girl's half given confidence and of her distress as by some wizardry of approaching dreams they seemed in that instant to be related but before I could analyze the why and the wherefor both sank away out of sight again and I was off beyond recall unless you should send for me sooner end of part one the camp of the dog by Algernon Blackwood whether Mrs. Maloney's tent door opened south or east I think she never discovered for it is quite certain she always slept with the flap tightly fastened I only know that my own little five by seven all silk faced due east because next morning the sun pouring in as only the wilderness son knows how to pour woke me early and a moment later with a short run over soft moss and a flying dive from the granite ledge I was swimming in the most sparkling water unimaginable it was barely four o'clock and the sun came down a long vista of blue islands that led out to the open sea and Finland nearby rose the wooded domes of our own property still captain reathed with smoky trails of fast-melting mist and looking as fresh as though it was the morning of Mrs. Maloney's sixth day and they had just issued clean and brilliant hands of the great architect in the open spaces the ground was drenched with dew and from the sea a cool salt wind stole in among the trees and set the branches trembling in an atmosphere of shimmering silver the tents shown white where the sun caught them in patches below lay the lagoon still dreaming of the summer night in the open the fish were jumping busily sending musical ripples towards the shore and in the air hung the magic of dawn silent incommunicable I lit the fire so that an hour later the clergyman should find good ashes to stir his porridge over then set forth upon an examination of the island but hardly had I gone a dozen yards when I saw a figure standing a little in front of me the light fell in a pool among the trees it was Joan she had already been up an hour she told me and had bathed before the last stars had left the sky I saw at once that the new spirit of this solitary region had entered into her banishing the fears of the night for her face was like the face of a happy denizen of the wilderness and her eyes stainless and shining and drops of dew she had shaken from the branches hung in her loose flying hair obviously she had come into her own I've been all over the island she announced laughingly and there are two things wanting you're a good judge Joan what are they there's no animal life and there's no water they go together I said animals don't bother with a rock like this there's nothing bothering on it and as she led me from place to place happy and excited leaping adroitly from rock to rock I was glad to note that my first impressions were correct she made no reference to our conversation of the night before the new spirit had driven out the old there was no room in her heart for fear or anxiety and nature had everything her own way the island where we found was some three-quarters of a mile from point to point built in a circle or wide horseshoe with an opening of 20 feet at the mouth of the lagoon pine trees grew thickly all over but here and there were patches of silver birch scrub oak and considerable colonies of wild raspberry and gooseberry bushes the two ends of the horseshoe formed bare slabs of smooth granite running into the sea and forming dangerous reefs just below the surface but the rest of the island rose in a 40-foot ridge and sloped down steeply to the sea on either side being nowhere more than a hundred yards wide the outer shoreline was much indented with numberless coves and bays and sandy beaches with here and there caves and precipitous little cliffs and some thunder but the inner shore the shore of the lagoon was low and regular and so well protected by the wall of trees along the ridge that no storm could ever send more than a passing ripple along its sandy marges eternal shelter rained there on one of the other islands a few hundred yards away for the rest of the party slept late this first morning and we took to the canoe we discovered a spring of fresh water tainted by the brackish flavor of the Baltic and having thus solved the most important problem of the camp we next proceeded to deal with the second fish and in half an hour we reeled in and turned homeward for we had no means of storage and to clean more fish than may be stored or eaten in a day is no wise occupation for experienced campers and as we landed towards six o'clock we clurged him and singing as usual and saw his wife in Sangre shaking out their blankets in the sun and dressed in a fashion that finally dispelled all memories of streets and civilization the little people lit the fire for me cried Maloney looking natural and at home in his ancient flannel suit and breaking off in the middle of his singing so I've got the porridge going and this time it's not burnt we reported the discovery of water and held up the fish good good again he cried we'll have the first decent breakfast we've had this year Sangre'll clean him in no time and the bosons mate we'll fry them to a turn laughed the voice of Mrs. Maloney appearing on the scene in a tight blue jersey and sandals and catching up the frying pan her father always called her the bosons mate in camp because it was her duty among others to pipe all hands with her meals and as for you Joan went on the happy man you look like the spirit of the island with moss in your hair and wind in your eyes and sun and stars mixed in your face he looked at her with delighted admiration here Sangre take these 12 there's a good fellow they're the biggest and we'll have them in butter in less time than you can say Baltic Island I watched the Canadian looked off to the cleaning pail his eyes were drinking in the girl's beauty and a wave of passionate almost feverish joy passed over his face expressive of the ecstasy of true worship more than anything else perhaps he was thinking that he still had three weeks to come with that vision always before his eyes perhaps he was thinking of his dreams in the night cannot say but I noticed the curious mingling of yearning and happiness in his eyes and the strength of the impression touched my curiosity something in his face held my gaze for a second something to do with its intensity that so timid so gentle a personality should conceal so veral a passion almost seemed to require explanation but the impression was momentary for that first breakfast and camp permitted no divided attentions and I dare swear that the porridge the tea the Swedish flatbread and the fried fish flavored with points of frizzle bacon were better than any meal eaten elsewhere that day in the whole world the first clear day in a new camp is always a furiously busy one and we soon dropped into the routine upon which in large measure the real comfort of everyone depends about the cooking fire greatly improved with stones from the shore we built a high stockade consisting of upright poles thickly twined with branches the roof lined with moss and lichen and weighted with rocks and round the interior we made low wooden seats so that we could lie around the fire even in rain and eat our meals in peace paths too outlined themselves from tent to tent from the bathing places and the landing stage and a fair division of the island divided upon between the quarters of the men and the women wood was stacked awkward trees and boulders removed hammocks slung and tents strengthened in a word camp was established and duties were assigned and accepted as though we expected to live on this Baltic island for years to come and the smallest detail of the community life was important moreover as the camp came into being this sense of community developed proving that we were a definite whole and not merely separate human beings living for a while in tents upon a desert island each fell willingly into the routine sangry as by natural selection took upon himself the cleaning of the fish and the cutting of the wood into lengths sufficient for a day's use and he did it well the pan of water was never without a fish cleaned and scaled ready to fry for whoever was hungry the nightly fire never died down for lack of material to throw on without going farther afield to search and Timothy once reverend caught the fish and chopped down the trees he also assumed responsibility for the condition of the boat and did it so thoroughly that nothing in the little cutter was ever found wanting and when for any reason his presence was in demand the first place to look for him was in the boat and there too he was usually found tinkering away with sheets sails or rudder and singing as he tinkered nor was the reading neglected for most mornings there came a sound of droning voices from the white tent by the raspberry bushes which signified that sangry the tutor and whatever other man chance to be in the party at the time were hard at it with history or the classics and while Mrs. Maloney also by natural selection took charge of the larder and the kitchen the mending and general supervision of the rough comforts she also made herself peculiarly mistress of the megaphone which summoned to meals and carried her voice easily from one end of the island to the other and in her hours of leisure she daubed the surrounding scenery onto a sketching block with all the honesty and devotion of her determined but unreceptive soul Joan meanwhile Joan elusive creature of the wilds became I know not exactly what she did plenty of work in the camp yet seemed to have no very precise duties she was everywhere and anywhere sometimes she slept in her tent sometimes under the stars with a blanket she knew every inch of the island places where she was least expected forever wandering about reading her books in sheltered corners making little fires on sunless days to worship by to the gods as she put it ever finding new pools to dive and bathe in and swimming day and night in the warm and waveless lagoon like a fish in a huge tank she went bare-legged and bare-footed with her hair down and her skirts caught up to the knees and if ever a human being turned into a jolly savage within the compass of a single week Joan Maloney was certainly that human being she ran wild so completely too was she possessed by the strong spirit of the place the little human fear she had yielded to so strangely on her arrival seemed to have been utterly dispossessed as I hoped and expected she made no reference to our conversation of the first evening sangri bothered her with no special attentions and after all they were very little together his behavior was perfect in that respect and I for my part hardly gave the matter another thought Joan was ever a prey to vivid fancies of one kind or another and this was one of them mercifully for the happiness of all concerned it had melted away before the spirit of busy act of life and deep content that reigned over the island everyone was intensely alive and peace was upon all meanwhile the effect of the camp life began to tell always a searching test of character its results sooner or later are infallible for it acts upon the soul as swiftly and surely as the hypo bath upon the negative of a photograph a readjustment of the personal forces takes place quickly some parts of the personality go to sleep others wake up but the first sweeping change that the primitive life brings about is that the artificial portions of the character shed themselves one after another like dead skins attitudes and poses that seemed genuine in the city drop away the mind like the body grows quickly hard simple uncomplex and in a campus primitive and close to nature as ours was the effects became speedily visible some folks of course who talk glibly about the simple life when it is safely out of reach betray themselves and camp by forever peering about for the artificial excitements of civilization which they miss some get bored at once some grow slovenly some reveal the animal in most unexpected fashion and some the select few find themselves in very short order and are happy and in our little party we could flatter ourselves that we all belonged to the last category so far as the general effect was concerned only there were certain other changes as well varying with each individual and all interesting to note it was only after the first week or two that these changes became marked although this is the proper place I think to speak of them for having myself no other duty than to enjoy a well-earned holiday I used to load my canoe with blankets and provisions and journey forth on exploration trips among the islands of several days together and it was on my return from the first of these when I rediscovered the party so to speak that these changes first presented themselves vividly to me and in one particular instance produced a rather curious impression in a word then everyone had grown wilder naturally wilder sangria it seemed to me had grown much wilder and what I can only call unnaturally wilder he made me think of a savage to begin with he had changed immensely in mere physical appearance and the full brown cheeks the brighter eyes of absolute health and the general air of vigor and robustness that had come to replace his customary lassitude and timidity he had heard such an improvement that I hardly knew him for the same man his voice too was deeper and his manner bespoke for the first time a greater measure of confidence in himself he now had some claims to be called nice looking or at least to a certain air of virility that would not lessen his value in the eyes of the opposite sex all this of course was natural enough and most welcome but all together apart from the physical change which no doubt had also been going forward in the rest of us there was a subtle note in his personality that came to me with a degree of surprise that almost amounted to shock and two things as he came down to welcome me and pull up the canoe leapt up in my mind unbidden as though connected in some way I could not at the moment divine first the judgment formed of him by Joan and secondly that fugitive expression I had caught in his face while Maloney was offering up his strange prayer for special protection from heaven the delicacy of manner and feature to call it by no milder term which had always been a distinguishing characteristic of the man had been replaced by something far more vigorous and decided that yet utterly eluded analysis the change which impressed me so oddly was not easy to name the others singing Maloney the bustling Boson's mate and Joan that fascinating half-breed of Undine and Salamander all showed the effects of a life so close to nature but in their case the change was perfectly natural and what was to be expected whereas with Peter Sangri the Canadian something unusual and unexpected it is impossible to explain how he managed gradually to convey to my mind the impression that something in him had turned savage yet this more or less is the impression that he did convey it was not that he seemed really less civilized or that his character had undergone any definite alteration but rather that something in him hitherto dormant had awakened to life unquality latent till now so far at least as we were concerned who after all knew him but slightly had stirred into activity and risen to the surface of his being and while for the moment this seemed as far as I could get it was but natural that my mind should continue the intuitive process and acknowledge that John's silence owing to his peculiar faculties and the girl owing to her singularly receptive temperament a different way have divined this latent quality in his soul and feared its manifestation later on looking back to this painful adventure too it now seems equally natural that the same process carried to its logical conclusion should have wakened some deep instinct in me that wholly without direction from my will set itself sharply and persistently upon the watch from that very moment thence forward the personality sangri was never far from my thoughts and I was forever analyzing and searching for the explanation that took so long in coming I declare, Hubbard, you're tanned like an aboriginal and you look like one too, laugh Maloney and I can return the compliment was my reply as we all gathered round a brew of tea to exchange news and compare notes and later at supper it amused me to observe that the distinguished tutor once clergyman ate his food quite as nicely as he did at home he devoured it that Mrs. Maloney ate more and to say the least with less delay than was her custom in the select atmosphere of her English dining room and that while Joan attacked her tin plateful with genuine avidity sangri the Canadian bit and nod at his laughing and talking and complimenting the cook all the while we think with secret amusement of a starved animal at its first meal while from their remarks about myself I judged that I had changed and grown wild as much as the rest of them in this and in a hundred other little ways the change showed ways difficult to define in detail but all proving not the coarsening effect of leading the primitive life but let us say the more direct and unvarnished methods that had become prevalent for all day long we were in the bath of the elements wind, water, sun and just as the body became insensible to cold and shed unnecessary clothing the mind grew straightforward and shed many of the disguises required for the conventions of civilization and at each according to temperament and character there stirred the life instincts that were natural untamed and in a sense savage end of part two the camp of the dog by Algernon Blackwood this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the camp of the dog by Algernon Blackwood part three read by Charles Blakemore so it came about that I stayed with our island party putting off my second exploring trip from day to day and I think that this far-fetched instinct to watch Sangri was really the cause of my postponement for another ten days the life of the camp pursued its even and delightful way blessed by perfect summer weather a good harvest of fish and winds for sailing and calm starry nights Maloney's selfish prayer had been favorably received nothing came to disturb or perplex there was not even the prowling of night animals to vex the rest of Mrs. Maloney for in previous camps it had often been her peculiar affliction that she heard the porcupines scratching against the canvas or the squirrels dropping fur cones in the early morning with the sound of miniature thunder on the roof of her tent but on this island there was not even a squirrel or a mouse I think two toads and a small and harmless snake were the only living creatures that had been discovered during the whole of the first fortnight and these two toads were in all probability not two toads but one toad then suddenly came the terror that changed the whole aspect of a place the devastating terror it came at first gently but from the very start it made me realize the unpleasant loneliness of our situation our remote isolation in this wilderness of sea and rock and how the islands in this tideless Baltic ocean lay about us like the advance guard of a vast besieging army its entry, as I say was gentle and truly noticeable in fact to most of us singularly undramatic it certainly was but then in actual life this is often the way the dreadful climaxes move upon us leaving the heart undisturbed almost to the last minute and then overwhelming it with a sudden rush of horror for it was the custom at breakfast to listen patiently while each in turn related the trivial adventures of the night when the wind shook their tent whether the spider on the rich pole had moved whether they had heard the toad and so forth and on this particular morning Joan in the middle of a little pause made a truly novel announcement in the night I heard the howling of a dog she said then flushed up to the roots of her hair as we burst out laughing for the idea of there being a dog to support a snake in two toads was distinctly ludicrous and I remember Maloney halfway through his burnt porridge capping the announcement by declaring that he had heard a Baltic turtle in the lagoon and his wife's expression of frantic alarm before the laughter undeceived her but the next morning Joan repeated the story with additional unconvincing detail sounds of whining and growling woke me she said I quickly heard sniffing under my tent and the scratching of paws oh Timothy can it be a porcupine exclaimed the Boson's mate with distress forgetting that Sweden was not Canada but the girl's voice had sounded to me in quite another key and looking up I saw that her father and Sangri were staring at her hard they too understood that she was in earnest and had been struck by the serious note in her voice she said to me you're a British Joan you're always dreaming something rather wild her father said a little impatiently there's not an animal of any size on the whole island added Sangri with a puzzled expression he never took his eyes from her face but there's nothing to prevent one swimming over I put in briskly for somehow a sense of uneasiness that was not pleasant had woven itself into the talk and pauses gasped the Boson's mate with a look so portentous that we all welcomed the laugh but Joan did not laugh instead she sprang up and called us to follow there she said pointing to the ground by her tent on the farthest side from her mother's there are the marks close to my head you can see for yourselves we saw plainly the moss and lichen for earth there was hardly any stretched up by paws an animal about the size of a large dog it must have been to judge by the marks we stood and stared in a row close to my head repeated the girl looking round at us her face I noticed was very pale and her lip seemed to quiver for an instant then she gave a sudden gulp and burst into a flood of tears the whole thing had come about in the brief space of a few minutes and with a curious sense of inevitableness moreover as though it had all been carefully planned from all time and nothing could have stopped it it had all been rehearsed before had actually happened before as the strange feeling sometimes has it it seemed like the opening movement in some ominous drama and that I knew exactly what would happen next something of great moment impending for this sinister sensation of coming disaster made itself felt from the very beginning and an atmosphere of gloom and dismay pervaded the entire camp from that moment forward I drew sangri to one side and moved away while Maloney took the distressed girl into her tent and his wife followed them energetic and greatly flustered for thus in undramatic fashion it was that the terror I have spoken of first attempted the invasion of our camp and trivial and unimportant though it seemed every little detail of this opening scene is photographed upon my mind with merciless accuracy and precision it happened exactly as described this was exactly the language used I see it written before me in black and white I see too the faces of all concerned with the sudden ugly signature of alarm were once it in peace the terror had stretched out so to speak a first tentative feeler towards us it had touched the hearts of each with a horrid directness and from this moment the camp changed sangri in particular was visibly upset he could not bear to see the girl distressed and to hear her actually cry was almost more than he could stand the feeling that he had no right to protect her hurt him keenly and I could see he was itching to do something to help and liked him for it his expression said plainly that he would tear in a thousand pieces anything that dared to injure a hair of her head we lit our pipes and strolled over in silence to the men's quarters and it was his odd Canadian expression gee whiz that drew my attention to a further discovery the brute's been scratching around my tent too he cried as he pointed to similar marks on the door and I stooped down to examine them we both stared in amazement for several minutes without speaking only I sleep like the dead he added straightening up again and so I heard nothing I suppose we traced the paw marks from the mouth of his tent in a direct line across to the girls but nowhere else about the camp was there a sign of the strange visitor the deer dog or whatever it was that had twice favored us with a visit in the night had confined its attention to these two tents and after all there was really nothing out of the way about these visits of an unknown animal for although our island was destitute of life we were in the heart of a wilderness and the mainland and larger islands must be swarming with all kinds of four-footed creatures and no very prolonged swimming was necessary to reach us in any other country that caused a moment's interest interest of the kind we felt that is in our Canadian camps the bears were forever grunting about among the provision bags at night porcupines scratching unceasingly and chipmunks scuttling over everything my daughter is overtired and that's the truth of it explained Maloney presently when he had rejoined us and had examined in turn the other paw marks she's been overdoing it lately in camp life you know always that means a great excitement to her it's natural enough if we take no notice she'll be all right he paused to borrow my tobacco pouch and fill his pipe and the blundering way he filled it and spilled the precious weed on the ground visibly belied the calm of his easy language you might take her out for a bit of fishing huppard like a good chap she's hardly up to the long day in the cutter show her some of the other islands in your canoe perhaps eh and by lunchtime the cloud had passed away suddenly and as suspiciously as it had come but in the canoe on our way home having till then purposely ignored the subject uppermost in our minds she suddenly spoke to me in a way that again touched the note of sinister alarm the note that kept on sounding and sounding until finally John's silence came with his great vibrating presence and relieved it yes and even after he came too for a while I'm ashamed to ask it she said abruptly as she steered me home her sleeves rolled up, her hair blowing in the wind but ashamed of my silly tears too because I really can't make out what caused them but Mr. Hubbard I want you to promise me not to go off for your long expeditions just yet I beg it of you she was so in earnest that she forgot the canoe and the wind caught it sideways obviously I've tried hard not to ask this she added bringing the canoe around again but I simply can't help myself it was a good deal to ask and I suppose my hesitation was plain for she went on before I could reply and her beseeching expression and intensity of manner impressed me very forcibly for another two weeks only Mr. Sangri leaves in a fortnight I said that's what she was driving at but wondering if it was best to encourage her or not if I knew you were to be on the island till then she said her face alternately pale and blushing and her voice trembling a little she'd feel so much happier I looked at her steadily waiting for her to finish and safer she added almost in a whisper especially at night I mean safer Joan I repeated thinking I had never seen her eyes so soft and tender she nodded her head keeping her gaze fixed on my face it was really difficult to refuse whatever my thoughts and judgment may have been and somehow I understood that she spoke with good reason though for the life of me I could not have put it into words happier and safer she said gravely the canoe giving a dangerous lurch as she leaned forward in her seat that's my answer perhaps after all the wisest way was to grant her request and make light of it easing her anxiety without too much encouraging its cause all right Joan you queer creature I promise and the instant look of relief in her face and the smile that came back like sunlight in her eyes made me feel that unknown to myself and the world I was capable of considerable sacrifice after all but you know there's nothing to be afraid of I added sharply and she looked up in my face with the smile women use when they know we are talking idly yet do not wish to tell us so you don't feel afraid I know she observed quietly of course not why should I so if you will just humour me this once I I will never ask anything foolish of you again as long as I live she said gravely you have my promise was all I could find to say she headed the nose of the canoe for the lagoon lying a quarter of a mile ahead and paddled swiftly but a minute or two later she paused again and stared hard at me with the dripping paddle across the thwarts you've not heard anything at night yourself have you she asked I never hear anything at night I replied shortly from the moment I lie down to the moment I get up that dismal howling for instance she went on to get it out far away at first and then getting closer and stopping just outside the camp certainly not because sometimes I think I almost dreamed it most likely you did was my unsympathetic response and you don't think father has heard it either then no he would have told me if he had this seemed to relieve her mind a little I know mother hasn't she added as if speaking to herself for she hears nothing ever it was two nights after this conversation that I woke out of deep sleep and heard sounds of screaming the voice was really horrible breaking the peace and silence with its shrill clamor in less than ten seconds I was half dressed and out of my tent the screaming had stopped abruptly but I knew the general direction and ran as fast as the darkness would allow over to the women's quarters and on getting close I heard sounds of suppressed weeping it was Joan's voice and just as I came up I saw Mrs. Maloney marvelously attired fumbling with a lantern other voices became audible in the same moment behind me and Timothy Maloney arrived breathless, less than half dressed and carrying another lantern that had gone out on the way from being banged against a tree dawn was just breaking and a chill wind blew in from the sea black clouds drove low overhead the scene of confusion may be better imagined than described questions and frightened voices filled the air against this background of suppressed weeping briefly Joan's silk tent had been torn and the girl was in a state of bordering upon hysterics somewhat reassured by our noisy presence however, for she was plucky at heart she pulled herself together and tried to explain what had happened and her broken words told there on the edge of night and morning upon this wild island ridge were oddly thrilling and distressingly convincing something touched me and I woke she said simply but in a voice still hushed and broken with the terror of it something pushing against the tent I felt it through the canvas there was the same sniffing and scratching as before that's when the wind shakes it I heard breathing very loud very heavy breathing and then came a sudden great tearing blow and the canvas ripped open close to my face she had instantly dashed out through the open flap and screamed at the top of her voice thinking the creature had actually got into the tent but nothing was visible she declared and she heard not the faintest sound of an animal making off under cover of the darkness the brief account seemed to exercise a paralyzing effect upon us all as we listened to it I can see the disheveled group to this day the wind blowing the women's hair and Maloney craning his head forward to listen and his wife open mouthed and gasping leaning against a pine tree come over to the stockade and we'll get the fire going I said that's the first thing for we were all shaking with the cold in our scanty garments and at that moment Sangri arrived wrapped in a blanket and carrying his gun he was still drunken with sleep the dog again Maloney explained briefly for stalling his questions Bennett Jones' tent torn it begad this time it's time we did something he went on mumbling confusedly to himself Sangri gripped his gun and looked about swiftly in the darkness I saw his eyes a flame in the glare of the flickering lanterns he made a movement as though to start out and hunt and kill then his glance fell on the girl crouching on the ground her face hidden in her hands and there leapt into his features an expression of savage anger that transformed them he could have faced a dozen lions with a walking stick at that moment and again I liked him for the strength of his anger, his self-control and his hopeless devotion but I stopped him going off with a useless chase come and help me start the fire, Sangri said anxious also to relieve the girl of our presence and a few minutes later the ashes still glowing from the night's fire had kindled the fresh wood and there was a blaze that warmed us well while it also lit up the surrounding trees within a radius of twenty yards I heard nothing he whispered what in the world do you think it is it surely can't be only a dog we'll find that out later I said as the others came up to the grateful warmth the first thing is to make as big a fire as we can Joan was calmer now and her mother had put on some warmer and less miraculous garments and while they stood talking in low voices Maloney and I slipped off to examine the tent there was a little enough to see but that little was unmistakable some animal had scratched up the ground at the head of the tent there was a hole of a powerful paw a paw clearly provided with good claws had struck the silk and torn it open there was a hole large enough to pass a fist and arm through it can't be far away Maloney said excitedly we'll organize a hunt at once this very minute we hurried back to the fire Maloney talking boisterously about his proposed hunt there's nothing like prompt action to dispel alarm he whispered in my ear and turned to the rest of us we'll hunt the island from end to end at once, he said with excitement that's what we'll do the beast can't be far away and the Bosun's mate and Joan must come too because they can't be left alone Hubbard, you take the right shore and you sangry the left and I'll go in the middle with the women in this way we can stretch clean across the ridge and nothing bigger than a rabbit can possibly escape us he was extraordinarily excited and of course stirred him prodigiously get your guns and we'll start the drive at once, he cried he lit another lantern and handed one each to his wife and Joan and while I ran to fetch my gun I heard him singing to himself with the excitement of it all meanwhile the dawn had come on quickly it made the flickering lanterns look pale the wind too was rising and I heard the trees moaning overhead and the waves breaking with increasing thunder on the shore in the lagoon the boat dipped in splash and the sparks from the fire were carried aloft in a stream scattered far and wide we made our way to the extreme end of the island measured our distances carefully and then began to advance none of us spoke sangry and I with cocked guns watched the shorelines and all within easy touch and speaking distance it was a slow and blundering drive with many false alarms but after the best part of half an hour we stood on the farther end having made the complete tour and without putting up so much as a squirrel certainly there was no living creature on that island but ourselves I know what it is cried Maloney looking out over the dim expanse of grey sea and speaking with the air of a man making a discovery it's a dog from one of the farms on the larger islands and it's escaped and turned wild our fires and voices attracted it and it's probably half starved as well as savage poor brute no one said anything in reply and he began to sing again very low to himself the point where we stood a huddled shivering group faced the wider channels that led to the open sea and Finland the grey dawn had broken in earnest at last and we could see the racing waves with their angry crests of white the surrounding islands showed up as dark masses in the distance and in the east almost as Maloney spoke the sun came up with a rush in a stormy and magnificent sky of red and gold against this splashed and gorgeous background black clouds shaped like fantastic and legendary animals filed past swiftly in a tearing stream and to this day I have only to close my eyes to see again the vivid and hurrying procession in the air all about us the pines made black splashes against the sky it was an angry sunrise rain indeed had already begun to fall in big drops we turned as by a common instinct and without speech made our way back slowly to the stockade Maloney humming snatches of his songs sangry in front with his gun prepared to shoot at a moment's notice and the women floundering in the rear and the self and the extinguished lanterns yet it was only a dog really it was most singular when one came to reflect soberly upon it events say the occultists have souls or at least that agglomerate life due to the emotions and thoughts of all concerned in them so that cities and even whole countries have great astral shapes which may become visible to the eye of vision and certainly here the soul of this drive this vain blundering futile drive stood somewhere between ourselves and laughed all of us heard that laugh and all of us tried hard to smother the sound or at least to ignore it everyone talked at once loudly and with exaggerated decision obviously trying to say something plausible against heavy odds striving to explain naturally that an animal might so easily conceal itself from us away before we had time to light upon its trail for we all spoke of that trail as though it really existed and we had more to go upon than the mere marks of pause about the tents of Joan and the Canadian indeed but for these and the torn tent I think it would of course have been possible to ignore the existence of this beast and tutor altogether and it was here under this angry dawn as we stood in the shelter of the stockade from the pouring rain weary yet so strangely excited it was here out of this confusion of voices and explanations that very stealthily the ghost of something horrible slipped in and stood among us it made all our explanations seem childish and untrue the false relation was instantly exposed eyes exchanged quick anxious glances questioning expressive of dismay there was a sense of wonder of poignant distress and of trepidation alarm stood waiting at our elbows we shivered then suddenly as we looked into each other's faces came the long unwelcome pause in which this new arrival established itself in our hearts and without further speech or attempt at explanation Maloney moved off abruptly to mix the porridge for an early breakfast meeting the fish myself to chop wood and tend the fire Joan and her mother to change their wet garments and most significant of all to prepare her mother's tent for its future compliment of two each went to his duty but hurriedly awkwardly silently and this new arrival this shape of terror and distress stalked few lists by the side of each if only I could have traced that dog I think was the thought of the minds of all but in camp where everyone realizes how important the individual contribution is to the comfort and well-being of all the mind speedily recovers tone and pulls itself together during the day a day of heavy and ceaseless rain we kept more or less to our tents and though there were signs of mysterious conferences between the three members of the Maloney family I think that most of us slept a good deal and stayed alone with his thoughts certainly I did because when Maloney came to say that his wife invited us all to a special tea in her tent he had to shake me awake before I realized he was there at all and by supper time we were more or less even minded again and almost jolly I only noticed that there was an undercurrent of what is best described as jumpiness and that the merest snapping of a twig or plop of a fishing lagoon was sufficient to make us start and look over our shoulders pauses were rare in our talk and the fire was never for one instant allowed to get low the wind and rain had ceased but the dripping of the branches still kept up an excellent imitation of a downpour in particular Maloney was vigilant and alert telling us a series of tales in which the wholesome humorous element was especially strong he lingered too behind with me after sangria had gone to bed and while I mixed myself a glass of hot Swedish punch he did a thing I had never known him to do before he mixed one for himself and then asked me to light him over to his tent we said nothing on the way but I felt he was glad of my companionship I returned alone to the stockade and for a long time after that kept the fire blazing and set up smoking and thinking I hardly knew why but sleep was far from me for one thing and for another an idea was taking form in my mind that required the comfort of tobacco and a bright fire for its growth I lay against a corner of that stockade seat listening to the wind whispering into the ceaseless drip drip of the trees the night otherwise was very still and the sea quiet as a lake I remember that I was conscious particularly conscious of this host of desolate islands crowding about us in the darkness and that we were the one little spot of humanity in a rather wonderful kind of wilderness but this I think was the only symptom that came to warn me of highly strong nerves and it certainly was not sufficiently alarming to destroy my peace of mind one thing however did come to disturb my peace for justice I finally made ready to go and had kicked the embers of the fire into a last effort I fancied I saw appearing at me round the farther end of the stockade wall a dark and shadowy mass that might have been that strongly resembled in fact the body of a large animal two glowing eyes shown for an instant in the middle of it but the next second I saw that it was merely a projecting mass of moss and lichen in the wall of our stockade and the eyes were a couple of wandering sparks from the dying ashes I had kicked it was easy enough to imagine I saw an animal moving here and there between the trees as I picked my way stealthily to my tent of course the shadows tricked me and though it was after one o'clock Maloney's light was still burning for I saw his tent shining white among the pines it was however in the short space between consciousness and sleep that time when the body is low and the voices of the submerged region tell sometimes true which had been all this while maturing reached the point of actual decision and I suddenly realized that I had resolved to send word to Dr. Silence for with a sudden wonder that I had hitherto been so blind the unwelcome conviction dawned upon me all at once that some dreadful thing was lurking about us on this island and that the safety of at least one of us was threatened by something monstrous and unclean and again remembering those last words of his as the train moved out of the platform I understood that Dr. Silence would hold himself in readiness to come unless you should send for me sooner he had said I found myself suddenly wide awake it is impossible to say what oak me but it was no gradual process seeing that I jumped from deep sleep to absolute alertness in a single instance I had evidently slept for an hour and more when for the night had cleared the stars crowded the sky and a pallid half moon just sinking into the sea through a spectral light between the trees I went outside to sniff the air and stood upright a curious impression that something was a stir in the camp came over me and when I glanced across at Sangri's tent some twenty feet away I saw that it was moving I knew then was awake and restless for I saw the canvas sides bulge this way and that as he moved within the tent flap pushed forward he was coming out like myself to sniff the air and I was not surprised for its sweetness after the rain was intoxicating and he came on all fours just as I had done I saw a head thrust round the edge of the tent and then I saw that it was not Sangri at all it was an animal and the same instant I realized something else too it was the animal and its whole presentment for some unaccountable reason was unutterably malefic a cry I was quite unable to suppress escaped me and the creature turned on the instant and stared at me with baleful eyes I could have dropped on the spot for the strength all ran out of my body and I was crushed something about it touched in me the living terror that grips and paralyzes if the mind requires but the tenth of a second to form an impression I must have stood there stuck still for several seconds while I seized the ropes for support and stared many and vivid impressions flashed through my mind but not one of them resulted in action because I was an instant dread that the beast any moment instead however after what seemed a vast period it slowly turned its eyes from my face uttered a low whining sound and came out altogether into the open then for the first time I saw it in its entirety and noted two things it was about the size of a large dog but at the same time it was utterly unlike any animal that I had ever seen also that the quality that had impressed me first as being malefic was really only its singular and original strangeness foolish as it may sound and impossible as it is for me to induce proof I can only say that the animal seemed to me then to be not real but all this passed through my mind in a flash almost subconsciously and before I had time to check my impressions or even properly verify them I made an involuntary movement catching the tight rope in my hand so that it twanged like a banjo string and in that instant the creature turned the corner of Sangri's tent and was gone into the darkness then of course my senses in some measure returned to me and I realized only one thing it had been inside his tent I dashed out reached the door in half a dozen strides and looked in the Canadian thank God upon his bed of branches his arm was stretched outside across the blankets the fist tightly clenched and the body had an appearance of unusual rigidity that was alarming on his face there was an expression of effort almost a painful effort as far as the uncertain light permitted me to see and his sleep seemed to be very profound he looked I thought so stiff so unnaturally stiff and kind of a way too he looked smaller shrunken I called him to wake but called many times in vain then I decided to shake him and had already moved forward to do so vigorously when there came a sound of footsteps patting softly behind me and I felt a stream of hot breath burn my neck as I stooped I turned sharply the tent door was darkened I felt a rough and shaggy body push past me and I knew that the animal had returned it seemed to leap forward between me and Sangri in fact to leap upon Sangri for its dark body hid him momentarily from view and in that moment my soul turned sick and cowered with a horror that rose from the very dregs and depths of life and gripped my existence at its central source the creature seemed somehow to melt away into him almost as though it belonged to him and were a part of him but in the same instant that instant of extraordinary confusion and terror in my mind it seemed to pass over and behind him and in some utterly unaccountable fashion it was gone and the Canadian woke and sat up with a start quick you fool I cried in my excitement the beast has been in your tent here at your very throat while you sleep like the dead oh man get your gun only this second it disappeared over there behind your head quick or Joan and somehow the fact that he was there wide awake now to corroborate me brought the additional conviction to my mind that this was no animal but some perplexing and dreadful form of life that drew upon my deeper knowledge that much reading had perhaps assented to but that had never yet come within actual range of my senses he was up in a flash and out he was trembling and very white we searched hurriedly feverishly but found only the traces of paw marks passing from the door of his own tent across the moss to the women's and the sight of the tracks about Mrs. Maloney's tent where Joan now slept set him in a perfect fury do you know what it is Hubbard this beast he hissed under his breath at me it's a damned wolf that's what it is a wolf lost among the islands and starving to death desperate so help me God I believe it's that he talked a lot of rubbish in his excitement he declared he would sleep by day and sit up every night till he killed it again his rage touched my admiration but I got him away before he made enough noise to wake the whole camp I have a better plan than that I said watching his face closely I don't think this is anything we can deal with I'm going to send for the only man I know who can help we'll go to Waxham this very morning and get a telegram through Sangre stared at me with a curious expression as the fury died out of his face and a new look of alarm took its place John Silence I said will know you think it's something of that sort he stammered I am sure of it there was a moment's pause that's worse far worse than anything material he said growing visibly paler he looked from my face to the sky and then added with sudden resolution come the winds rising let's get off at once from there you can telephone to Stockholm and get a telegram sent without delay I sent him down to get the boat ready and seized the opportunity myself to run and wake Maloney he was sleeping very likely and sprang up the moment I put my head inside his tent I told him briefly what I had seen and he showed so little surprise that I caught myself wondering for the first time whether he himself had seen more going on than he had deemed wise to communicate to the rest of us he agreed to my plan without a moment's hesitation and my last words to him were to let his wife and daughter think that the great psychic doctor was coming merely as a chance visitor and not with any professional interest so with prying pan provisions and blankets aboard Sangri and I sailed out of the lagoon fifteen minutes later and headed with a good breeze for the direction of Waxholm and the borders of civilization end of part three the camp of the dog by Algernon Blackwood this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org the camp of the dog by Algernon Blackwood read by Charles Blakemore the camp of the dog part four although nothing John Silence did ever took me properly speaking by surprise it was certainly unexpected to find a letter from Stockholm waiting for me I have finished my hungry business he wrote and I'm here for ten days do not hesitate to send if you need me if you telephone any morning from Waxholm I can catch the afternoon steamer my years of intercourse with him were full of coincidences of this description and although he never sought to explain them by claiming any magical system of communication with my mind I have never doubted that there actually existed some secret telepathic method by which he knew my circumstances and gauged the degree of my need and that this power was independent of time in the sense that it saw into the future always seemed to me equally apparent Sangri was as much relieved as I was and within an hour of sunset that very evening we met him on the arrival of a little coasting steamer and carried him off in the dinghy to the camp we had prepared at our neighboring island meaning to start for home early next morning now he said when supper was over and we were smoking round the fire let me hear your story he glanced from one to the other feeling you tell it Mr. Hubbard Sangri interrupted abruptly and went off a little way to wash the dishes yet not so far as to be out of earshot and while he splashed with the hot water and scraped the tin plates with sand and moss my voice, unbroken by a single question from Dr. Silence ran on for the next half hour with the best account I could give of what had happened my listener lay on the other side of the fire with some brero sometimes he glanced up questioningly when a point needed elaboration but he uttered no single word till I had reached the end and his manner all through the recital was grave and attentive overhead the wash of the wind in the pine branches filled in the pauses the darkness settled down over the sea and the stars came out in thousands and by the time I finished the moon had risen to flood the scene yet by his face and eyes I knew quite well that the doctor was listening to something he had expected to hear even if he had not actually anticipated all the details you did well to send for me he said very low with a significant glance at me when I finished very well and for one swift second his eye took in Sangri for what we have to deal with here is nothing more than a werewolf rare enough I am glad to say but often very sad and sometimes very terrible I jumped as though I had been shot but the next second was heartily ashamed of my want of control for this brief remark confirming as it did my own worst suspicions did more to convince me of the gravity of the adventure than any number of questions or explanations it seemed to draw close the circle about us shutting a door somewhere that locked us in with the animal and the horror and turning the key whatever it was had now to be faced and dealt with no one has been actually injured so far he asked aloud but in a matter of fact tone that lent reality to grim possibilities good heavens no cried the Canadian throwing down his dishcloths and coming forward into the circle of firelight surely there can be no question of this poor starved beast injuring anybody can there? his hair straggled untitly over his forehead and there was a gleam in his eyes that was not all reflection from the fire his words made me termed sharply we all laughed a little short forced to laugh I trust not indeed Dr. Silent said quietly but what makes you think the creature starved? he asked the question with his eyes straight on the other's face the prompt question explained to me why I had started and I waited with just a tremor of excitement for the reply Sangri hesitated a moment as though the question took him by surprise but he met the doctor's gaze unflinchingly across the fire and with complete honesty really he faltered with a little shrug of the shoulders I could hardly tell you the phrase seemed to come out of its own accord I have felt from the beginning that it was in pain and starved though why I felt this never occurred to me till you asked you really know very little about it then said the other with a sudden gentleness in his voice no more than that Sangri replied looking at him with a puzzled expression that was unmistakably genuine in fact nothing at all really he added by way of further explanation I'm glad of that I heard the doctor murmur under his breath but so low that I only just caught the words and Sangri missed them all together as evidently he was meant to do and now he cried getting on his feet and shaking himself with a characteristic gesture as though to shake out the horror and the mystery let us leave the problem till tomorrow and enjoy this wind and sea and stars I've been living lately in the atmosphere of many people and feel that I want to wash and be clean I propose a swim and then bed who'll second me and two minutes later we were all diving from the boat into cool deep water that reflected a thousand moons as the waves broke away from us in countless ripples we slept in blankets under the open sky Sangri and I taking the outside places and we're up before sunrise to catch the dawn wind helped by this early start we were half way home by noon and then the wind shifted to a few points behind us so that we fairly ran in and out among a thousand islands down narrow channels where we lost the wind out into open spaces where we had to take in a reef racing along under a hot and cloudless sky we flew through the very heart of the bewildering and lonely scenery a real wilderness cried John Silence from his seat in the boughs where he held the jib sheet his hat was off his hair tumbled in the wind and his lean brown face gave him the touch of an oriental presently he changed places with Sangri and came down to talk with me by the tiller a wonderful region all this world of islands he said waving his hand to the scenery rushing past us but doesn't it strike you there's something lacking it's hard I answered after a moment's reflection it has a superficial glittering prettiness without I hesitated to find the word I wanted John Silence nodded his head with approval exactly he said the picturesqueness of stage scenery that is not real not alive it's like a landscape by a clever painter yet without true imagination soulless that's the word you wanted something like that I answered watching the gusts of wind on the sails not dead so much as without soul that's it of course he went on and a voice calculated by our companion in the boughs to live long in a place like this long and alone might bring about a strange result in some men I suddenly realized he was talking with a purpose and pricked up my ears there's no life here these islands are mere dead rocks pushed up from below the sea not living land and there's nothing really alive on them even the sea this tightless brackish sea neither salt water nor fresh is dead it's all a pretty image of life without the real heart and soul of life to a man with two strong desires who came here and lived close to nature strange things might happen let her out a bit I shouted to Sangri who was coming after the winds gusty and we've got hardly any ballast he went back to the boughs and Dr. Silence continued here I mean a long sojourn would lead to deterioration to degeneration the place is utterly unsophoned by human influences by any humanizing associations of history good or bad this landscape has never awakened into life it's still dreaming in its primitive sleep in time I put in you mean a man living here might become brutal the passions would run wild selfishness becomes supreme the instincts coarsen and turn savage but in other places justice wild parts of Italy for instance where there are other moderating influences it could not happen the character might grow wild savage too in a sense but with a human wildness one could understand and deal with but here in a hard place like this it might be otherwise he spoke slowly weighing his words carefully I looked at him with many questions in my eyes it was a revolutionary cry to sangria to stay in the four part of the boat out of your shot first of all they would come callousness to pain and in difference to the rights of others then the soul would turn savage not from passionate human causes or with enthusiasm but by deadening down into a kind of cold primitive emotionless savagery by turning like the landscape soulless and a man with strong desires you say might change without being aware of it yes he might turn savage his instincts and desires turn animal and if he lowered his voice and turned for a moment toward the bows and then continued in his most weighty manner owing to delicate health or other predisposing causes his double you know what I mean of course his aetheric body of desire would be determined that part in which the emotions, passions and desires reside if this I say were for some constitutional reason loosely joined to his physical organism there might well take place an occasional projection sangria came aft with a sudden rush his face aflame but whether with wind or sun or with what he had heard I cannot say in my surprise I let the tiller slip gave a great plunge as she came sharply into the wind and flung us all together in a heap on the bottom sangri said nothing but while he scrambled up and made the chip sheet fast my companion found a moment to add to his unfinished sentence the words too low for any ear but mine entirely unknown to himself however we righted the boat and laughed and then sangri produced the map and explained exactly where we were far away on the horizon across an open stretch of water lay a blue cluster of islands with our crescent shaped home among them and the safe anchorage of the lagoon an hour with this wind would get us there comfortably and while doctor silence and sangri fell into conversation I sat and pondered over the strange suggestions that had just been put into my mind concerning the double and the possible form it might assume when dissociated temporarily from the physical body the whole way home these two chatted and John silence was as gentle and sympathetic as a woman I did not hear much of their talk for the wind grew occasionally to the force of a hurricane and the sails and tiller absorbed my attention but I could see that sangri was pleased and happy and was pouring out intimate revelations to his companion in the way that most people did when John silence wished them to do so but it was quite suddenly while I sat all intent upon the wind and sails that the true meaning of sangri's remark about the animal flared up in me with his full import for his admission that he knew it was in pain and starved was in reality nothing more or less than a revelation of his deeper self it was in the nature of a confession he was speaking of something that he knew positively something that was beyond a question or argument something that had to do directly with himself poor starved beast he had called it in words that had come out of their own accord and there had not been the slightest evidence of any desire to conceal or explain away he had spoken instinctively from his heart as though about his own self and half an hour before sunset we raced through the narrow opening of the lagoon and saw the smoke of the dinner fire blowing here and there among the trees and the figures of Joan and the Bosuns mate running down to meet us at the landing stage end of part four