 Down through the ages, in all cultures and all countries, the belief has persisted that certain men are able to transform themselves into wild animals, into werewolves and were-tigers, that they prey upon domesticated stock and even upon other human beings. Like Anthropy, the scientists call this phenomena, and the mere fact that it has acquired a technical name would suggest that it is based on something more than primitive fantasy. But there is even better evidence than this. The witness, for example, the strange affair of Captain Schott and the elusive Hyena. He was a hunter and an adventurer of this Captain's show to the order of distinguished service. He himself, in October of 1918, sitting in a hut in a village of far off Nigeria. Nor, since he was known and trusted by the natives there, is it surprising that their leader should confide in him the misfortunes that were afflicting the village. Rating hyenas, eh? Yes, Captain, or perhaps one hyena. He steals among us at night. He destroys everything. He has the body of an animal, but the brain of a man. What? You see, Captain, he is a man. At night, he transforms himself into a hyena. We know. We have followed his tracks and always they lead to the next village. And always, just before they reach the village, they turn into human tracks. Yes, I'm sure they do. Well, whatever is my friend, tonight we're going to get him. That night, in the company of the tribal leader, Captain Schott set out to hunt down the hyena. When the two men reached the outskirts of the village, a bright moon was shining. They made their way cautiously through the treacherous swamp lands. For more than an hour, they walked thus, their every sense alert. And then suddenly, look, there he is. Lord, what a brute. Some distance away, an enormous hyena was flinking furtively across a clearing. His great hulking form silhouetted in the moonlight. Captain Schott took careful aim. Come on, hurry. The two men rushed toward the clearing, but when they reached it, the hyena was gone. Oh, I could have sworn I hit him squarely in the head. There is blood on the ground here. What's that lying in the middle there? Oh, it looks like a... Fine, George, it is a jar bone. Come along, let's follow his tracks. An easy trail to follow, for it was marked at regular intervals by great splotches of blood. It led directly to the neighboring village, and then it stopped abruptly, exhausted and disappointed. They accepted the invitation of an aged villager to spend the night in his hut. When they awoke at sunrise, their host had vanished. He returned a few moments later in a state of great agitation. What has happened, my friend? It is Barno. Barno is dead. He was my neighbor. He was wise man and mighty hunter. The goons have cursed him with the sickness, sir. No, he was not sick. He was killed with gun. Someone fired it in his face. His jar bone was shot away. After that, the monstrous hyena never again was seen near the village. Nor did anyone ever learn the identity of the man who had killed the native Barno. That the animal and the man should have been one and the same creature is, of course, inconceivable. But what other explanation is there for this baffling story? A story incredible, but true.