According to an old story, Ghost Mountain was once the retreat for a band of outlaws who terrorized the country for miles around. Finally they got to fighting among themselves and killed each other off. According to the story, that fight is still raging and can be seen and heard during a storm like this if any one is bold enough to venture up the slope.
Some mighty peculiar thefts have occurred down there in the valley. I've heard it said that food, drugs and chemicals were the articles sought; but, strangely enough, the robbers have never been apprehended. The stolen goods have never been found. That is why the folks down there insist that the ghosts of the outlaws are still operating.
Hm! Perhaps that's why you're up here tonight? Wanted to see those ghosts for yourself, eh? Reporter—maybe? You've got the grit, son. It was a bold move.
Ah! Bold blood! This is gorgeous. You came just in time, sir. Yes—yes. indeed! Science can make use of you.
But, here! Slip off those sopping clothes and crawl into this blanket. I'll put another log on the fire. Your things will soon be dry. . . . Come on, son, you might as well. You won't be able to venture out, anyway, until the storm has gone down. . . .
There, you took real comfortable now. We can't let your blood get chilled. That would be unpardonable! I'll pour out a drink that will warm you up. Guess you need it after that soaking. . .
It's a pretty color, isn't it, son? Good stuff, too! Yes—it does look like blood, but what if it is? I've swallowed some viler liquids with the same color in my time and they were called wine. Come—what's in a name! No? Well, I like it. It's such a beautiful red. Mighty nourishing, too, especially if it's fresh.
When I was younger there was nothing to me but skin and bones. I wasn't expected to live. Someone suggested that I drink a quart of ox blood every day. At first it was worse than any medicine; but that was only a queer idea. I grew to like it. It made me immensely strong in time.
Look at me, son! You would never guess that I was a puny weakling at one time. You might not believe that I've passed the century mark in age. This gray head of mine has gone uncovered through more than a hundred winters and I haven't known sickness in years. That is my secret, son. Maybe I'll tell it to you. . . .
Listen! Do you hear that wailing? Sounds like wind in the trees, but it's not. That's the ghost of Jerry McFadden. I know them all—I ought—and he's the wildest one in the lot. Always comes prowling around at this hour, whether the moon shines or not, and starts his wailing.
Jerry was as strong as an ox and no more intelligent. Just a hopeless idiot. There was nothing courageous about him; he simply didn't know enough to keep out of danger. But he had strong blood. That was his redeeming feature. Strong blood! So I used him!
He hates me like poison. Sets a lot of traps to get me, but I'm wise in the ways of ghosts. He tries to creep into my brain whenever I'm off guard and make me do things which might cause death. Sounds unusual for an idiot; but they do say that death is a wonderful healer. Why, whenever I get near the Now you'll hear a sobbing that will just urging me to jump. But I always manage to fight him off. . . .
Whew! What a crash! Seems to be getting worse outside. My toes are tingling yet from the shock. Felt as though it split the old hill right in two. Now you'll hear a sobbing that will just about wring your heart. Over here under the window on the outside. Hear it?
Poor little Nina! A perfect beauty in her time—and young. Young blood! Just another martyr to science. She's scared to death of thunder and always comes a-crying whenever the noise is especially piercing. I was hoping that Jerry would be able to comfort her, but it seems he is too busy watching me.
BUT about Jerry—I didn't finish, did I? I killed him! Now don't look that way. This was years ago when the big idea first dawned. . . . Why, you aren't afraid, are you, son? Of course not! Bold blood can't be scared.
Everybody down in the valley knows that I killed Jerry. At least I've told them; but they won't believe me. They just wag their heads and smile. Some tap their temples with their fingers as if to say that I've gone mad. Fools!
I killed Jerry, and that is the truth. Nothing could be plainer. In some way or other he wandered into the shack and was a-sitting right there where you are when I first saw him. I had been experimenting for some time—years, in fact—and when I saw his powerful frame the big idea came to me in a flash. Strong blood!
I plunged my knife straight through his heart and turned it round and round. He squealed like a stuck pig and bled just as much. Yes, Jerry was a husky ox!
Did you ever see blood gush out of a dying heart, son? Its a gorgeous sight—und interesting! At first it shoots out thick and rich—like oil. It's a beautiful color. Jerry's was especially fine. Then it wells up fitfully for a spell and finally eases off into a tiny trickle. I'd like for you to see it, son. . . .
Jerry started his tricks from the very first. He made me feel scared for a spell. That is how I came to make the mistake I did. I thought I had to hide his body. So I drained him down in the work-shop and stuffed him underneath the bunk there . . . It was a mistake to keep it secret.
For days I could not rid my mind of that dead carcass. The thought kept me from sleeping, too. My nerves grew jumpy and violent pains began to knock in my head. It got so that I could see that body wherever I looked. I could feel its heart thumping and burning away at my back whenever I tried to lie in the bunk.
The time came when the beat of that heart never left me at all. It made no difference whether I was in the shack, or out in the woods, I could always hear its monotonous thump—thump—thump. It felt like a hammer knocking in my ears and I began to get dizzy spells. The horrible feeling possessed me that the beat of that heart was chipping off bits of my brain with each thump. I thought I was going mad.
But a madman cannot reason, son. Always remember that, I began to reason. What was it that troubled me? The heart of Jerry McFadden! And why? Because I was nursing an overpowering secret. The remedy was simple. I'd reveal my secret and smother the heart.
So I pulled out Jerry's body. His heart stuck like glue—Jerry hates me like poison!—but I managed to pry it loose. I sealed it in a bottle. Here it is. See! Quite a little thing to kick up such a rumpus. That hole in the center is where I turned the knife.
The smaller lump in there is the heart of little Nina. I thought she would be good company for Jerry, but he doesn't seem to pay much attention to her. He just wails around in the tree-tops while she cries outside the window there.
Listen! Do you hear them? Jerry can't be much of a ladies' man. He could at least be gallant on a night like this.
Are you sure you won't have a drink, son? You look as pale as a ghost. Remember, it's very strengthening. No?
