the windy, which looks like he'd like to make sassage-meat o' my head?'
"Nellie's eyes flashed, an' she answered up right sharp: ''T ain't no
friend of mine. 'T ain't no sort of a _man_ at all. It's only somethin'
the freshet left on the shore, an' the pigs wouldn't eat nohow.'
"You bet I laffed, an' so did Sandy. Ez I heern later on, the chap had
ben a-botherin' roun' Nellie all winter, fur all she'd gin him the
mitten straight an' sent him about his bizness heaps o' times. I reckon
the feller suspicioned we was a-laffin' at him, fur he squinted at me
blacker 'n ever.
"Purty soon Nellie got fussin' roun' the room, over nigh to where the
yaller chap was a-settin', an' he spoke to her, saft-like, so ez we
couldn't hear what he was a-gittin' at. Nellie she jest sniffed kinder
scornful; an' then, _what_ would yez suppose that chap done? He reached
out suddent, grabbed her leetle wrist so hard 'at she cried out, an'
_slapped_ her--yes, slapped her right across the mouth. Nellie jest
stood there white, like a image, an' never said one word; an' I seed the
red marks o' the blackguard's fingers come out acrost her cheek. Next
minit yaller face jumped fur the door,--an' me arter him, you kin bet
yer life! He was a-makin' tracks purty lively, but I kin run a leetle
myself, an' I was onter him 'gin Sandy an' the rest was outer the door.
An' didn't I whale him, now? I twisted his knife outer his hand, an' I
laced him till I was clean tuckered out. But the feller was grit, an'
never hollered oncet. When I quit he laid still a bit. Then he riz up
slowly, started to walk away, turned half round, an' hissed at me jest
like a big snake er 'n old sassy gander:--
"'I'll--pay--_you_!'
"'Git!' sez I, an' he purceeded to git, joggin' along towards Woodstock.
"Well, now, how thet Nellie did look at me, proud an' grateful like,
when I come back to the house; an' sez I to myself, 'Jabez Ephraim,
you've ben an' gone an' put in the big licks there, old feller!' But I
never sed nuthin' about it at all to Nellie, nor Nellie didn't to me.
Now yer a-smilin', boys, so I may remark jest here, to save yez from
interruptin' hereafter, thet I've ben to Old Man Peters's sence, on
several occasions; an' nex' summer I hope to see yez all acceptin' the
hospitality of Mrs. Jabez E. Batterpole! But _thet_ ain't no part o'
this here story!
"Nex' day Sandy an' me hed a fine run down by Woodstock. The old raft
rid kinder loose, however, an' we blamed up _an'_ down the fellers ez
had pinned her together to the Falls. Howsumever, we tightened her up a
bit, an' calc'lated she'd hold through.
"Ez we come in hearin' of the Meductic, Sandy sez to me, sez he: 'Jabe,
old 'Ductic is a-hoopin' her up to-day. There's a big head o' water on,
an' I'm thinkin' we'll hev to keep our eyes peeled. It'll take some
skittish steerin', fur ef the old raft jest teches the rocks she'll go
all to slivers.'
"'Right you be!' sez I. An' we braced up.
"Now, ez we soon seen, old 'Ductic _was_ jest a-rearin'. The big raft
shivered like a skeered filly ez she ketched the first nip of them
cross-currents, an' she commenced ter bulge an' sag like a nonsense.
Sandy was on the forrard sweep, but obsarvin' thet, ez the currents was
a-settin', he warn't no use forrard, I called him aft to help me. Ez I
turned my head a leetle mite to holler to him I ketched a squint o' that
yaller chap a-steppin' in behind a tree on the bluff.
"There warn't no time to be a-considerin' of yaller chaps, fur the raft
was settin' dead onter the big rocks in the middle o' the rapid, an'
Sandy an' me was a-heavin' an' a gruntin' on them sweeps to swing her
cl'ar. 'She'll make it,' sez Sandy, 't last--an' that very minit there
comes a ringin' shot from the bluff, an' I feels like it was a dash o'
scaldin' water 'long the tip o' my shoulder-blade. Yez'll notice, I was
leanin' forrard at the time.
"'I'm shot!' sez I; an' then I sees Sandy's sweep swing round, an' Sandy
drops on the logs.
"I jumped cl'ar over to where he laid, but straightways he hops up an'
yells, 'It's only me arm! Look out for the raft, Jabe!'
"_I_ looked out, boys, you bet! But she was jest sheerin roun' onter
them rocks, an' no man's arm could 'a' stopped her. I looked up at the
bluff, an' ketched a sight o' the yaller blackguard standin' there ez
cool ez ye please, mind yez, a-loadin' up fur a fresh shot.
"I hadn't no time fur another squint at him, fur next minit the old raft
struck the rocks. She jest tumbled to pieces like a box o' matches. I
hustled Sandy out to the tail o' the raft jest in time, an' told him to
jump an' strike out fur all was in him, an' I'd see him through er else
we'd kinder shuffle off together.
"'Correct!' sez Sandy, chipper ez ye please; an' then we both jumped, me
with a grip like grim death onter Sandy's belt.
"_Boys_, but it was a caution to see them waves, an' cross-currents, an'
chutes, an' big ripples, an' eddies, an' whirlpools, how they jest
sucked us down an' slapped us up an' smothered us an' chucked us roun'
like chips. I jes kep' my mouth shet an' said my pray'rs fur all was in
me. An' ez for swallerin' water--I must 'a' tuk in half a bar'l. How we
was kep' cl'ar of the rocks was a miracle, _out_ an' out. A queer light
got ter dancin' an' shiftin' front o' my eyes, an' the singin' in my
ears was gittin' kind o' pleasant like, an' I calc'late that yaller chap
must a gone away purty well satisfied; when, on the suddent, a sorter
shock brung me to, an' I felt my feet tech bottom. There was a sight o'
life left in Jabez Ephraim yet, ye can bet yer pile.
"I straightened up an' found 'at we was in a quiet eddy, at the foot o'
the rapids, on the furder side o' the stream. The water warn't up to me
arm-pits, neether. Ez for Sandy, the starch was clean knocked out o'
_him_, so I jest hauled him ashore an' spread him out on the rocks to
dry while I hev a leetle o' thet water off my stummick. In half a minit
I felt better, an' then I went an' tumbled Sandy roun' till he was
considerable lighter in the hold. Presently he come to an' opened his
eyes.
"I swan, boys, we didn't hurry noane. We jest laid there in the sun a
matter of an hour er so, kinder recooperatin'. Then we pinted up river.
When the folks heerd what had tuk place, yez'll allow there was lots o'
the boys out lookin' for the yaller chap. But he'd got scarce, an'
what's more, he's stayed scarce. Any of yez fellers ever seen him?"
"Ef ever _I_ runs agin him," exclaimed Andy Mitchell, in a burst of
generous enthusiasm, "I'll feed him to my team fur Injun Devil."
The Stone Dog.
It was drawing towards sunset, and I had reached the outskirts of the
city, which here came to an abrupt end upon the very edge of the
marshes. The marshes stretched before me bare and gray, with here and
there a flush of evening color, serving but to emphasize their utterness
of desolation. Here and there, also, lay broad pools, their shore and
water gradually intermerging through a sullen fringe of reeds. The
river, which had been my day-long companion--a noisy stream flowing
through breezy hills, and villages, and vineyards--having loitered to
draw its circle about the city walls, had fallen under a spell. It met
me here a featureless, brimming ditch, and wound away in torpid coils to
the monotonous horizon. And now this shrunken city, its edges dead and
fallen to decay, these naked levels, where not even a bittern's voice
had courage to startle the stillness, filled me, in spite of myself,
with a vague apprehensiveness. Just as one who is groping in profound
darkness feels his eyes dilate in the effort to catch the least glimmer
of light, I found my senses all on the strain, attentive to their very
utmost. Though the atmosphere was heavy and deadening, my eyes were so
watchful that not even the uprising of some weeds, trodden down,
perhaps, hours before by a passing foot, escaped their notice. My
nostrils were keenly conscious of the sick metallic odor from the
marshes, of the pleasanter perfume of dry reed panicles, of the chill,
damp smell of mouldering stone-work, and of a strangely disagreeable
haunting essence from a certain dull-colored weed, whose leaves, which
shot up within tempting reach of my hand, I had idly bruised in passing.
My ears, for all their painful expectancy, heard at first no sound save
the rustle of a frightened mouse in the dead grass near; but at length
they detected the gurgle of running water, made audible by a faint stray
wind which breathed in my direction.
Instinctively I turned and followed the sound. On my right a huge
fragment of the wall jutted into the marsh, and passing this I saw
before me, brightened by the sunset, a narrow stretch of dry, baked
soil, raised somewhat above the level of the pools, and strewn with
shattered bricks and scraps of tiling and potsherds. The musical lapsing
of the water now fell upon my ears distinctly, and I saw a little way
off a quaint old fountain, standing half a stonecast clear of the wall.
With the sunlight bathing it, the limpid water sparkling away from its
base, it was the only cheerful object in the landscape; yet I felt an
unaccountable reluctance to approach it. The evil enchantment which
seemed to brood over the place, the weird fantasies chasing each other
through my unconsenting brain, annoyed me greatly, for I profess to hold
my imagination pretty well under control, and to have but small concern
for ghostly horrors. Shaking aside my nervousness, I began to whistle
softly as I strolled up to examine the old fountain. But on noticing how
lugubrious, how appropriate to the neighborhood and my feelings was the
air that came to my lips, I laughed aloud. At the sudden sound of my
voice I felt both startled and somewhat abashed. Laughter here was
clearly out of place; and besides, the echo that followed was
obtrusively and unpleasantly distinct, appearing to come both from a
deep-arched doorway in the wall near by, and from the vaulted hollow of
the basin of the fount, which lay just beneath the dog's jaws. As I
should have said before, the fountain was a great cube of darkish stone,
along the top of which a stone dog crouched; and the water gushed from
between its carved fore-paws into a deep basin, the side of which was
cleft two thirds of the way to its base. Through this break, which I saw
to be an old one from the layers of green film lining it, the stream
bubbled out and ran off among barren heaps of débris, to sink itself in
the weeds of some stagnant pool. The head of the dog was thrust forward
and rested upon the fore-paws as if the brute were sleeping; but its
half-open eyes seemed to watch the approaches to the doorway in the
wall. As a piece of sculpture, the animal was simply marvellous. In its
gathered limbs, though relaxed and perfectly at rest, a capacity for
swift and terrible action seemed to hold itself in reserve, and a breath
almost appeared to come from the half-opened jaws, momentarily dimming
the crystal that smoothly gushed beneath. No scrap of vegetation could
the rill persuade out of the inexorable sterility around, saving for
some curdled greenish mosses that waved slowly from the sides of the
basin, or pointed from root-hold on brick and shard, where the small
current loitered a little. I am not a taker of notes, nor, for all my
vagrant and exploring tendencies, am I a very close observer.
Nevertheless, though it is now a year and a half since what I am telling
of took place, the minutest details of that strange fountain, and of the
scene about it, are as definitely before me as if I had been there but
yesterday. I am not going to inflict them all upon my reader, yet would
do so without a spark of compunction, if by such means I could dim the
all too vivid remembrance. The experiences that befell me by this
fountain have shaken painfully the confidence I once enjoyed as to the
fulness of my knowledge of the powers of things material. I cannot say
that I have become credulous; but I have ceased to regard as necessarily
absurd whatever I find it difficult to explain.
From the fountain it was not a score of paces to the doorway in the
wall, which was sunk below the surface of the ground, so that the
crumbling arch surmounting it was scarcely on a level with my feet.
Steep narrow stairs of brick work, consisting, I think, of seven steps,
led down to it. The doorway had once been elaborately ornamented with
mouldings in yellow stucco, most of which had fallen, and all but choked
the stairs. The crude pale color of these fragments jarred harshly
against the olive of the damp stone foundations and the stained brown of
the mouldy brick. After my usual fashion, I set myself to explore this
doorway, in my interest half forgetting my apprehensions. As I descended
the steps the sound of the running water faded out, with a suddenness
which caught my ear, though failing to fix my attention. But as I made
to grasp the great rusty iron doorhandle, which was curiously wrought of
two dragons intertwisted neck and tail, again my every sense sprang on
the alert, and a chill of terror crept tingling through my frame. My
straining ears could detect not the slightest sound from the fountain,
which was within plain view behind me. I felt as if some eye were fixed
upon me. I faced sharply about and set foot on the steps to ascend. And
I saw the water at that very moment burst forth afresh between the feet
of the dog, from whose eye a dull white glow seemed just vanishing. It
must be borne in mind that the beast's flank was toward the doorway,
and, in consequence, only one of its half-closed eyes visible from where
I stood. I ascended and went straight to the fountain. I grasped the
great stone head and gave it a wrench, but found it just as immovable as
it looked. Vexed at my idiotic fears, I vowed to take my fill of
investigating that doorway, and to find out if there lay anything of
interest beyond it. I knew this part of the city was quite deserted, and
that no outraged householder in the flesh was likely to confront my
trespassings. But the last of the daylight was now upon me, and I
thought best to postpone my enterprise till the morrow. As I betook
myself back toward humanity and lodgings, I felt that eye piercing me
till I rounded the buttress of the wall; but I denied my folly
permission to look back.
The following morning was spent among the curious old cafés, the
unexpected squares, and the gorgeous but dilapidated churches of the
inhabited city. All these things, however, failed to interest me. With
more time on my hands than I quite knew what to do with, I yet felt as
if my time were being wasted. The spell of the dead outskirts, of the
shadowless dead marshes, of that mysterious and inscrutable dog, clung
to me with unrelenting persistence. And the early afternoon found me
standing again by the fountain.
Familiarly I scooped up the cool water and drank it from my palm. I
scattered it over the parched bricks and clay, which instantly soaked it
in. I dashed a few drops also, playfully, upon the image of the dog,
which had taken, the evening before, such fantastic liberties with my
overwrought fancy. But these drops gathered themselves up nimbly into
little shining balls, and fled off to the ground like so much
quicksilver. I looked out upon the wan pools and marshes, whence a
greenish mist steamed up, and seemed to poison the sunlight streaming
through it. It is possible that this semblance of an unwholesome mist
was not so much the fault of the marshes as a condition of the
atmosphere, premonitory of the fierce electric storms and the earthquake
which visited the city that same night. The greenish light beat full on
the sunken doorway, so that only the lowermost steps remained in shadow.
However unattractive the temporary complexion of the sun, I was glad of
his company as I descended the steps. The twisting dragons of the
doorhandle attracted me as I drew near. As for the dog, I had exorcised
it from my imagination with those nimble drops of water; and for the old
door, it looked as if a little persuasion would make it yield whatever
secret it might chance to have in keeping. But certainly, if I might
credit my ears, which had once more grown abnormally attentive, the
sound of the water had ceased. My flesh began to creep a little, though
I told myself the fading of the sound was entirely due to my
position,--that the walls of the stairway intercepted it. At the same
time I felt that eye watching me, and a chilly sweat broke out upon my
limbs; but I execrated my folly, and refused to turn my head. Meanwhile,
so alert had become my hearing that the escape of some gases, bubbling
up from the bottom of a pool far out in the marsh, resounded as if close
beside me. I tried to force the bolt back, but in vain; and I had just
come to the conclusion that a sharp wrench would break away bolt,
socket, and all, when an uncontrollable instinct of fear turned me about
to see what peril threatened. The head of the dog was facing directly
toward me, and its eyes, now wide open, flamed upon me with strange and
awful whiteness. I sprang up the steps and was at the beast's side in an
instant; but I found the head, as before, resting upon the paws, the
eyes half closed and dull, the water gushing down into the basin.
As I bathed my shaking hands and clammy forehead, I laughed with deep
irritation. I said then to myself that the ignorant could hardly be
blamed for even the wildest superstitions, when a cool-headed and
enlightened modern like myself was so wrought upon by the fictions of
his brain. I philosophized for some time, however, before I got the
better of my repugnance to that doorway. I humorously assured myself
that, at the worst, this incomprehensible beast was securely anchored to
his fountain; and that if anything terrible were at the other side of
the door which I was going to open, it surely could not be capable of
much, good or ill, after its century or so of imprisonment. Then I
walked firmly straight to the doorway and down the seven steps; and I
knew that first one eye was turned upon me, then both; the water was
silent before I had gone ten paces.
It was useless trying to conquer the creeping of my skin, the fear that
pricked along my nerves; so, bidding my reason ignore these minor
discomforts, I busied myself with the problem of loosening the
bolt-socket. It occurred to me at the time that there might be an easier
entrance at the other side of the wall, as nothing in this neighborhood
was in good enough repair to boast of more than three walls standing;
but no, that would have been a concession to my illusions. I chipped
away at the soft stone with my knife. I jerked hard upon the bolt, which
gave a little, with clatter of falling stucco; and on the instant I
faced around like lightning, in an indescribable horror. There, at the
very top of the steps, crouched the dog, its head thrust down close to
my face. The stone jaws were grinning apart. A most appalling menace was
in the wide, white eyes. I know I tugged once more upon the bolt, for a
great piece of the door and arch crumbled and came away; and I thought,
as the head closed down, that I made a wild spring to get past the
crouching form. Then reason and consciousness forsook me.
When sense returned, I found myself lying on a pile of rags, in a
darkish, garlicky hut, with the morning sunlight streaming in through
the open door. I sat up, with the memory of my horror vivid upon me, and
wondered, with a sigh of relief at the change, what sort of a place I
had got to. I was in a very different quarter of the city from the
neighborhood of the fountain. Here were still the ruined outskirts,
still the desolate marshes, but the highlands backing the city on the
north began to rise just beyond the hut's door. I got up, but found my
right shoulder almost disabled. I could not lift my arm without great
pain. Yet my clothing was not torn, and bore no marks save of dust and
travel. I was about to uncover and examine the damaged shoulder, when in
came the owner of the hut, an honest-looking, heavy-set muleteer, who
showed all his teeth in his gratification at observing my recovery.
As I gathered from my host, he had had occasion to pass what he called
the "Fonte del Cano" near sunset of the afternoon preceding. He had
found me lying in a stupor, face down, across the basin of the fount,
and directly beneath the jaws of the dog, which he piously crossed
himself on mentioning. Not stopping to look for explanations, though he
saw the old door was partly broken away, he had put me on his mule and
made haste homeward, in fear of the coming of twilight in that grim
place. There had come up a great storm in the night, and then an
earthquake, shaking down many old walls that had long been toppling to
their fall. After sunrise, being a bold fellow, he had gone again to the
place, in hope of finding some treasure revealed by the disturbance.
Report said there was treasure of some kind hidden within the wall; but
none had dared to look for it since the day, years before his birth,
when two men undertaking the search had gone mad, with the great white
eyes of the dog turned terribly upon them. There were other strange
things said about the spot, he acknowledged reluctantly, which, however,
he would not talk of even in daylight; and for himself, in truth, he
knew but little of them. Now, he continued, in place of anything having
been laid bare, the whole top of the wall had fallen down and buried
steps and doorway in masses of ruin. But the fountain and the dog were
untouched, and he had not cared to go nearer than was necessary.
Having reached my lodgings, I rewarded the honest fellow and sent him
away in high feather, all-forgetful of the treasure which the earthquake
had failed to unearth for him. Once alone in my room, I made haste to
examine my shoulder. I found it green and livid. I found also, with a
sick feeling which I shall not soon forget, that it was bruised on
either side with deep prints of massive teeth.
The Barn on the Marsh.
It had not always stood on the marsh. When I was a little boy of seven,
it occupied the rear of our neighbor's yard, not a stone's throw from
the rectory gate, on one of the windy, sunshiny spurs of South Mountain.
A perpetual eyesore to the rector; but I cannot help thinking, as I view
it now in the concentrated light of memory, that it did artistic service
in the way of a foil to the loveliness of the rectory garden. This
garden was the rector's delight, but to my restless seven years it was a
sort of gay-colored and ever-threatening bugbear.
Weeding, and especially such thorough, radical weeding as alone would
satisfy the rector's conscience, was my detestation; and, moreover, just
at the time of being called upon to weed, there was sure to be something
else of engrossing importance which my nimble little wits had set
themselves upon doing.
But I never found courage to betray my lack of sympathy in all its
iciness. The sight of the rector's enthusiasm filled me ever with a
sense of guilt, and I used to weed quite diligently, at times.
One morning the rector had lured me out early, before breakfast, while
the sun yet hung low above the shining marshes. We were working
cheerfully together at the carrot-beds. The smell of the moist earth and
of the dewy young carrot-plants, bruised by my hasty fingers, comes
vividly upon my senses even now.
Suddenly I heard the rector cry, "Bother!" in a tone which spoke
volumes. I saw he had broken his hoe short off at the handle. I stopped
work with alacrity, and gazed with commiserating interest, while I began
wiping my muddy little fingers on my knickerbockers in bright
anticipation of some new departure which should put a pause to the
weeding.
In a moment or two the vexed wrinkles smoothed themselves out of the
rector's brow, and he turned to me with the proposal that we should go
over to our neighbor's and repair the damage.
One end of the barn, as we knew, was used for a workshop. We crossed the
road, let down the bars, put to flight a flock of pigeons that were
feeding among the scattered straw, and threw open the big barn doors.
There, just inside, hung the dead body of our neighbor, his face
distorted and purple. And, while I stood sobbing with horror, the rector
cut him down with the draw-knife which he had come to borrow.