Also it seemed to think that I had caused its injuries, for it seized me by the shoulder.

I felt its teeth slip along my skin, but happily they only fastened in the shooting coat of tough corduroy that I was wearing.

It began to shake me, then let go to get a better grip.

Now, remembering that Scroope only carried a light, single-barrelled rifle, and therefore could not fire again, I knew, or thought I knew, that my time had come.

I was not exactly afraid, but the sense of some great, impending chance became very vivid.