It Billowed Up from the Depths of the Cave
The Mist-Monster
THE newspaper accounts stated that Judson McSweet had gone into a cave near his cabin and in the prevailing darkness wandered too near the brink of a chasm, situated about five hundred yards inside the cavern, where he lost his balance or stepped blindly into space and fell to destruction. He may have found his last resting-place at the bottom of that pit. I think he did, but not in the manner stated by the newspapers. I am going to tell you here just what occurred. It will be just a bald statement of facts, which I quite realize will sound much like the dream of a disturbed imagination.
McSweet had extended me a standing invitation to spend some time at his place. Well knowing my weakness, he represented the hunting and fishing as excellent, holding out alluring prospects of the sport to be enjoyed. It was long ere I could avail myself of his offer, but finally feeling that my affairs were in such shape that the business could be left with subordinates for a while, I wrote him to expect me early in November.
After an all-day journey I alighted at a small mountain station, where Judson met me with a spring wagon drawn by one horse, and in this vehicle, which was already well loaded with bundles, he placed my luggage. "Been stocking up a bit," he explained. "Although there is plenty of fish and game, we can't live on that alone. I like a variety."
McSweet was a small man, round and fat, entirely bald, with a cherubic face and mild blue eyes. He was dressed in rough outing clothes, a cap and top-boots. He had suddenly retired from business some years before and bought a small tract of ground with a two-room cabin where he had since lived alone. In explanation he had always answered that he preferred being next to nature; that the simple life met all his needs and suited him far better than the more complicated existence of the town or city.
As we jolted over the rocky road through the evening gloom, I was surprized by his silence. He had always been a jolly man, full of fun and overflowing with conversation. His face now, as I glanced at him occasionally, seemed set and strained. As we came to a particularly rough stretch of road the horse stumbled and almost fell. McSweet gave a vicious jerk at the reins and lashed the beast unmercifully, at the same time giving voice to several deep curses.
"What on earth is the matter, Mac?" I exclaimed. "You are not yourself at all. I noticed it at the station and have been marveling at the change in you ever since."
"Oh, it’s nothing," he replied. "I'm all right, though I guess the devilish thing has gotten on my nerves a bit."
"What thing?" I demanded.
"I'll tell you in the morning. Here we are at the shack. We'll soon have a fire going and a supper good enough for your club. Anyway, it will be as substantial as anything they could give you there."
