On reaching the pond Bauman found three beaver in the traps, one of which had been pulled loose and carried into a beaver house.  He took several hours in securing and preparing the beaver, and when he started homewards he marked with some uneasiness how low the sun was getting.  As he hurried towards camp, under the tall trees, the silence and desolation of the forest weighed on him.  His feet made no sound on the pine needles, and the slanting sun rays, striking through among the straight trunks, made a gray twilight in which objects at a distance glimmered indistinctly.  There was nothing to break the ghostly stillness which, when there is no breeze, always broods over these sombre primeval forests.

At last he came to the edge of the little glade where the camp lay, and shouted as he approached it, but got no answer.  The camp fire had gone out, though the thin blue smoke was still curling upwards.  Near it lay the packs, wrapped and arranged.  At first Bauman could see nobody; nor did he receive an answer to his call.  Stepping forward he again shouted, and as he did so his eye fell on the body of his friend, stretched beside the trunk of a great fallen spruce.  Rushing towards it the horrified trapper found that the body was still warm, but that the neck was broken, while there were four great fang marks in the throat.

The footprints of the unknown beast-creature, printed deep in the soft soil, told the whole story.

The unfortunate man, having finished his packing, had sat down on the spruce log with his face to the fire, and his back to the dense woods, to wait for his companion.  While thus waiting, his monstrous assailant, which must have been lurking nearby in the woods, waiting for a chance to catch one of the adventurers unprepared, came silently up from behind, walking with long, noiseless steps, and seemingly still on two legs.  Evidently unheard, it reached the man, and broke his neck while it buried its teeth in his throat.  It had not eaten the body, but apparently had romped and gambolled round it in uncouth, ferocious glee, occasionally rolling over and over it; and had then fled back into the soundless depths of the woods.

Bauman, utterly unnerved, and believing that the creature with which he had to deal was something either half human or half devil, some great goblin-beast, abandoned everything but his rifle and struck off at speed down the pass, not halting until he reached the beaver meadows where the hobbled ponies were still grazing.  Mounting, he rode onwards through the night, until far beyond the reach of pursuit.