A midsummer day in the hamlet of Droom. The villagers went about their
various tasks, and within the tiny market-square the spice-vendors and
the people from the hills with their exotic burdens of gay fruits
created a pleasant hum of busy occupation. Sleeping dogs lay
contentedly in the warm sunlight, and the squat beasts of burden
ambled about peacefully upon their six clawless paws, their grotesque
faces slit with toad-like grins. All was, no one could have denied,
entirely calm.
Then one of the dogs lying in a doorway sprang suddenly and omitted a
sharp bark. At the same moment a dark cloud apparently obscured the
sun. In a short time it had passed unnoticed save for the dog. But his
owner--an old crone in a voluminous black hood--peered intently at the
clear and vacant sky, and started chattering in an excited tone. Soon
the whole population was out of doors looking upwards at that which
could not be seen yet which cast a deep shadow. Nothing was to be
perceived in the expanse of blue, yet upon the square cobblestones of
the quaint little village an irregular black form wavered back and
forth. Then it grew larger. Whatever it may have been, it was
settling. The people drew back afrightened. Slowly the swinging motion
ceased, and the thing drew near. A deep, heavy panting was distinctly
audible, much like that of a great beast, and with a dull impact as
though it was of great weight, it alighted upon a grassy plot before
the Chancellor's house. For a long time it lay there, resting. And
still nothing could be seen save the indentation of the grass nor
aught heard but the heavy breathing.
Then, to the terror of the white-faced and nervous citizens, it rose
on giant feet and tramped down a lane. Thud.... Thud.... Thud....
Thud.... The sound grew monotonous in its deliberation. Before its
path lay a sleeping hound. It was lifted as if in a vast claw, and
vanished among horrid rending sounds. A single drop of blood flecked
the earth.... Its taste momentarily sated, the thing paused and
turned.
It took some moments for reason to replace the stark terror of the
townsfolk. Then there was a mad and frantic rush for the nearest
houses. Those to first gain entrance barred the doors upon their
comrades. In a moment the street was apparently bare--save for the
unseen monster.
All that afternoon and night it pried at doors, scratched at roofs,
muzzled windows and upset fruits-carts inquiringly. But the people of
Droom had built well. It did not gain entrance during the night,
although few slept, when they heard the constant breathing before
their homes, and the dull thumping sounds as it wreaked its malice
upon the shops of the marketplace.
It was high noon before any dared unbar their doors and venture forth.
Nothing unusual greeted their blanched faces, and silently,
apprehensively they stole to their tasks. Soon all activity again
commenced.
The horror had gone.
* * * * *
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