"Will you go!" said Shiana, and there was a sharp ring in his voice, and he moved as if he were going to stand up.
The Black Man did nothing but turn and go up and sit in the chair as he was ordered. Shiana fell to work.
The Black Man was sitting in the chair with his back to Shiana. The tail was out at the back of the chair and down on the ground, and Shiana could see the claw that was in the tip of it. After a while, by a side-look that Shiana gave over his shoulder, he noticed the claw stretching and contracting and starting, like an eel on a hot stone. Shiana went on with his work, just as if there were no one in the house but himself. It was not long until he heard some kind of rolling going on in the chair. He raised his head and looked up. The Black Man was tossing and twisting himself as if he were trying to get up and could not. Shiana sprang to his feet and went up to him. He stood opposite the Black Man, looking at him. The Black Man was in a terrible state. His mouth was open and saliva running from it. The jaw and the goat's-beard were trembling and shaking. The two horns were loose and falling from side to side on his head. With both hands he was holding fast to the front corners of the chair, and his claws were digging into the wood, and he was writhing and grunting. The tail extended backward and downward, and it was stretched out and down upon the floor, and the claw in the tail was scratching against the floor.
"Well, my fine fellow!" said Shiana, "I rather fancy I have got a grip of you!"
"Oh! Shiana, you have, and a firm one!" said he. "Oh, let me go until the right time comes!"
