moaning in his sleep, filled with a strange unknown distress whose nature we can only surmise. It must be there, I thought.
All this time I was not afraid. I was protected and enveloped in an armor of confidence. No doubt something illuminating and potent would be revealed to me that night, though how or by whom, I knew not. I hurried on. The spot whither I turned my steps was in a gully where the sand and clay had been washed out by a flood some years before, and the rough underbrush and bushes had never been able to hide the yellow and red undersoil that gleamed through the thick surrounding sod like a bleeding wound.
Tales had been told of curious events noted by late passers-by in this remote and solitary spot. The headless body of an unclothed infant had been found here one morning. It was said that unsuspecting lovers loitering here had several times seen a headless, childlike form feebly stretching out its arms to them in the moonlight, a sight from which they had fled away in terror, But after the flood, which had torn out the scarred hillside, a tiny skull had been discovered and decently buried, after which nothing unusual had been observed, probably because the spot was avoided.
While I had been somewhat interested in the supernatural, the subject was of only slight importance in my studies, and I had reserved it for leisurely reading at some vacation period. I neither believed, nor disbelieved, at that time. And I was not afraid.
It was rather darker than elsewhere at the entrance to the glen. My foot slipped several times as I cautiously descended its sloping sides. When I reached the bottom, I was disconcerted to note that even the grassy plains of the park had become gloomy. Although I had seen not a single cloud in the sky to threaten the moon's dominion of the heavens, something had happened—a great purple-black curtain had been drawn up across the skies and extinguished the moon and its light.
In the midst of this gully there was the battered trunk of an elm that stood almost overturned, with knotted and twisted roots, some interlaced and twined like the snakes in the head of Medusa, some pathetically projecting like the stumps of a maimed and crippled human form.
As I slipped and staggered among the roots and stumps, I was suddenly stopped. My foot was caught—jammed in between the roots, I supposed, and I attempted to pull it away, But I could not disentangle myself, so I stooped down to get a nearer view.
A huge hand, sickly white, with knotted blue-black veins standing out on it, was gripped about my ankle!
I looked closer and saw a long arm, angular and rigid like the arm of a tarantula, lying along the ground, leading to the shoulder of a thick-set form, whose features I could not clearly perceive. But it was a man that held me in this strange fashion, A man who was not himself near the ground, but was sitting, bent and crouched, on top of the weather-beaten stump of which I have already spoken. His arm must have been at least twice his own height, as it then stretched out and snatched me like a fly.
And then the arm began to draw me in toward him, and the arm gradually disappeared into his shoulder, as the tongue of an ant-eater is sucked back into its mouth. I attempted to break the hold of this long bony arm that held me prisoner. My efforts were in vain. Kicking, beating and struggling, I was dragged relentlessly over the uneven ground to the very base of the stump.
There I lay for a moment, exhausted, too surprised and shaken to know what I ought to do next. I was cut and torn by the stones and sharp branches over which I had been irresistibly pulled, and I felt the blood beginning to trickle down my cheeks, but I did not cry out or call for help. I knew that would be useless.
Nothing happened for a second or two. The huge, repulsive hand held me in its close grip and made no further move. I wondered if some fierce bird of prey would sweep down through the trees from the opaque sky and begin to rip out my vitals or pick my skull. Something unimaginable was, I felt, about to happen.
Nothing occurred for a second or two. But presently a shape appeared—a large undistinguishable shape at first, creeping, slipping and sliding painfully along the ground through the underbrush. There was a noise of crackling and breaking as it came along, demolishing the upstanding twigs and brush in its way.
It progressed like a sloth, its head close to the ground, parting as best it could, clumsily and awkwardly, the undergrowth in front of it. The thing was large and round, and when it drew near enough I saw that its nails were long and sharp, like those of a bear, and, although its hands were calloused and gnarled, they looked human.
Over its face hung a thick curtain of tangled, meshed hair, and its whole, body was a mass of hair matted with leaves and mud. As it came near, the repugnant being lifted its head, shaking back the hairy mane. It had a small, circular mouth and it puckered up its thick, bright red lips as it lifted its face toward me, sniffing suspiciously with a nose so flat against its face from pushing along the ground that there was scarcely a sign of nostrils. I gazed, fascinated, and looked for its eyes. It had a slight trace of a forehead, but eyes there were none.
I had been so terrified by this strange monster that I did not at first observe that still another being had approached me. It was coming from behind the tree stump. But I had seen enough to know that the unbelievable thing that crawled along the earth on its belly was, or had been, human.
The third being then came nearer. It was tall and slender, moving with a gentle grace, like a tall flower swaying in the wind. While the other two were of an odd hue, like the bark of a storm-stained tree, this was a pronounced green.
The point that interested me most about this creature was its face. It was calm and dignified. I could see it clearly and definitely, although everything else was veiled in mist and damp, penetrating gloom. Her eyes were downcast and a smile lingered on her lips, so faintly pink, although her cheeks were pale and transparent as if they were molded of wax. This is a real human being, I thought.
She seemed to be unaware of me. She came nearer with a delicate step, the soft green draperies fluttering about her like mossy streamers hanging from the branches of some southern forest. But she did not seem to see us, Never once did she lift her eyes, nor did that sweet smile vary.
Nevertheless, she made her way directly to me, and then placed one long slender hand lightly on my arm, without once looking up. With the other hand she made a gesture as if to arrange her flowing hair or smooth her pale, waxy cheeks.
Then I saw her face begin to revolve, like a door on its hinges! Her delicate, beautiful hands opened her waxy face as one might the door of a clock. Within was a grinning skull, with dark, clotted fragments of ligaments and blood vessels stretched across it.
Consciousness left me then. For days I seemed to lie buried beneath the waves, miles and miles below the water, and from time to time I was gently
(Continued on page 82)
