serve before; that he would not go within a hundred feet of the cave. So one day I took him by the collar and dragged him to the entrance. He whined and struggled desperately, but I persisted and after getting a few feet within the cave, released him. The poor animal gave one terrified howl and dashed out, disappearing among the trees, and I have seen nothing more of him."
"It is certainly strange," I returned thoughtfully. "You say this cloud appears at regular intervals?"
"Not exactly, no. It is likely to come out at any time in the afternoon, though I have never seen it before 3 o'clock."
"We must make a careful investigation. Whatever the phenomenon is, you may be certain it is caused by natural agencies."
"I'm afraid any investigation will come to nothing," he answered rather despairingly. "I have just about adopted the Indian belief that the thing is a devil; something superhuman, anyway."
"Nonsense!" I replied. "Come on into the house; I have a fine creel of fish here. Let's give them our undivided attention and resume discussion of this queer thing in the morning."
After an excellent repast, we talked and read until bed time, but without recurring to the thing in the cave. Neither was it mentioned the next day, and as things turned out, it was never mentioned again. I spent the next three days hunting and fishing, keeping our table well supplied. As I drew near the cabin on my return the fourth day I was startled by wild cries and screams from the direction of the cave. "Help! Help! Oh, it's got me! Oh, the cold, clammy devil! Help! Help!"
I hurried forward, soon coming to the cave. The gray vapor filled the mouth of the cavern. McSweet's head and shoulders projected from the foggy mass, a look of unutterable fear on his round face. He clawed wildly at the empty air and it was plain to be seen that he was making desperate efforts to make his way out of the billowing mass, but was apparently held fast. "Courage, Mac," I shouted; "I'm here!"
As I neared him I brought up my gun, discharging the contents into the gray mass above his head, causing putrid spots of vapor to shoot forth where the charge had entered. Dropping the empty weapon, I rushed forward to seize him by the arms, but my shots seemed to have hastened the end, for he was suddenly enveloped in the cloud, which rapidly retreated into the cave.
I got out my flashlight and followed, but all was quiet and the air clear, though there was a noticeable odor of dead and moldy matter. I continued forward until I reached what was seemingly the edge of a precipice. My spotlight failed to find the bottom, and stones dropped gave back no sound. I shouted repeatedly, but the echo of my own voice was the only reply. Judson McSweet was gone.
I remained at the cabin two days longer, hoping against hope. The cloud, now seeming to me ominous and deadly, billowed from the mouth of the cave each day but I made no attempt to investigate its nature. Of course I gave no thought to the idea that it was of supernatural origin. Could it be possible, I wondered, for some slimy horrible monster of the Jurassic age, or some other period when the world was young, to survive and have its lair in those dark depths?—that it came up into the light each day in search of food and was able to mask its movements by discharging that evil-smelling vapor, much the same as the present-day octopus, in the depths of the ocean, surrounds itself with an inky blackness when attacked? I wonder.
