_XXV_
THE THING FROM THE ARENA
This morning, early, I went through the gardens; but found everythingas usual. Near the door, I examined the path, for footprints; yet, hereagain, there was nothing to tell me whether, or not, I dreamedlast night.
It was only when I came to speak to the dog, that I discovered tangibleproof, that something did happen. When I went to his kennel, he keptinside, crouching up in one corner, and I had to coax him, to get himout. When, finally, he consented to come, it was in a strangely cowedand subdued manner. As I patted him, my attention was attracted to agreenish patch, on his left flank. On examining it, I found, that thefur and skin had been apparently, burnt off; for the flesh showed, rawand scorched. The shape of the mark was curious, reminding me of theimprint of a large talon or hand.
I stood up, thoughtful. My gaze wandered toward the study window. Therays of the rising sun, shimmered on the smoky patch in the lowercorner, causing it to fluctuate from green to red, oddly. Ah! that wasundoubtedly another proof; and, suddenly, the horrible Thing I saw lastnight, rose in my mind. I looked at the dog, again. I knew the cause,now, of that hateful looking wound on his side--I knew, also, that, whatI had seen last night, had been a real happening. And a great discomfortfilled me. Pepper! Tip! And now this poor animal ...! I glanced at thedog again, and noticed that he was licking at his wound.
'Poor brute!' I muttered, and bent to pat his head. At that, he gotupon his feet, nosing and licking my hand, wistfully.
Presently, I left him, having other matters to which to attend.
After dinner, I went to see him, again. He seemed quiet, anddisinclined to leave his kennel. From my sister, I have learnt that hehas refused all food today. She appeared a little puzzled, when she toldme; though quite unsuspicious of anything of which to be afraid.
The day has passed, uneventfully enough. After tea, I went, again, tohave a look at the dog. He seemed moody, and somewhat restless; yetpersisted in remaining in his kennel. Before locking up, for the night,I moved his kennel out, away from the wall, so that I shall be able towatch it from the small window, tonight. The thought came to me, tobring him into the house for the night; but consideration has decidedme, to let him remain out. I cannot say that the house is, in anydegree, less to be feared than the gardens. Pepper was in the house,and yet....
It is now two o'clock. Since eight, I have watched the kennel, from thesmall, side window in my study. Yet, nothing has occurred, and I am tootired to watch longer. I will go to bed....
During the night, I was restless. This is unusual for me; but, towardmorning, I obtained a few hours' sleep.
I rose early, and, after breakfast, visited the dog. He was quiet; butmorose, and refused to leave his kennel. I wish there was some horsedoctor near here; I would have the poor brute looked to. All day, he hastaken no food; but has shown an evident desire for water--lapping it up,greedily. I was relieved to observe this.
The evening has come, and I am in my study. I intend to follow my planof last night, and watch the kennel. The door, leading into the garden,is bolted, securely. I am consciously glad there are bars to thewindows....
Night:--Midnight has gone. The dog has been silent, up to the present.Through the side window, on my left, I can make out, dimly, the outlinesof the kennel. For the first time, the dog moves, and I hear the rattleof his chain. I look out, quickly. As I stare, the dog moves again,restlessly, and I see a small patch of luminous light, shine from theinterior of the kennel. It vanishes; then the dog stirs again, and, oncemore, the gleam comes. I am puzzled. The dog is quiet, and I can see theluminous thing, plainly. It shows distinctly. There is somethingfamiliar about the shape of it. For a moment, I wonder; then it comes tome, that it is not unlike the four fingers and thumb of a hand. Like ahand! And I remember the contour of that fearsome wound on the dog'sside. It must be the wound I see. It is luminous at night--Why? Theminutes pass. My mind is filled with this fresh thing....
Suddenly, I hear a sound, out in the gardens. How it thrills throughme. It is approaching. Pad, pad, pad. A prickly sensation traverses myspine, and seems to creep across my scalp. The dog moves in his kennel,and whimpers, frightenedly. He must have turned 'round; for, now, I canno longer see the outline of his shining wound.
Outside, the gardens are silent, once more, and I listen, fearfully. Aminute passes, and another; then I hear the padding sound, again. It isquite close, and appears to be coming down the graveled path. The noiseis curiously measured and deliberate. It ceases outside the door; and Irise to my feet, and stand motionless. From the door, comes a slightsound--the latch is being slowly raised. A singing noise is in my ears,and I have a sense of pressure about the head--
The latch drops, with a sharp click, into the catch. The noise startlesme afresh; jarring, horribly, on my tense nerves. After that, I stand,for a long while, amid an ever-growing quietness. All at once, my kneesbegin to tremble, and I have to sit, quickly.
An uncertain period of time passes, and, gradually, I begin to shakeoff the feeling of terror, that has possessed me. Yet, still I sit. Iseem to have lost the power of movement. I am strangely tired, andinclined to doze. My eyes open and close, and, presently, I find myselffalling asleep, and waking, in fits and starts.
It is some time later, that I am sleepily aware that one of the candlesis guttering. When I wake again, it has gone out, and the room is verydim, under the light of the one remaining flame. The semi-darknesstroubles me little. I have lost that awful sense of dread, and my onlydesire seems to be to sleep--sleep.
Suddenly, although there is no noise, I am awake--wide awake. I amacutely conscious of the nearness of some mystery, of some overwhelmingPresence. The very air seems pregnant with terror. I sit huddled, andjust listen, intently. Still, there is no sound. Nature, herself, seemsdead. Then, the oppressive stillness is broken by a little eldritchscream of wind, that sweeps 'round the house, and dies away, remotely.
I let my gaze wander across the half-lighted room. By the great clockin the far corner, is a dark, tall shadow. For a short instant, I stare,frightenedly. Then, I see that it is nothing, and am, momentarily,relieved.
In the time that follows, the thought flashes through my brain, whynot leave this house--this house of mystery and terror? Then, as thoughin answer, there sweeps up, across my sight, a vision of the wondrousSea of Sleep,--the Sea of Sleep where she and I have been allowed tomeet, after the years of separation and sorrow; and I know that I shallstay on here, whatever happens.
Through the side window, I note the somber blackness of the night. Myglance wanders away, and 'round the room; resting on one shadowy objectand another. Suddenly, I turn, and look at the window on my right; as Ido so, I breathe quickly, and bend forward, with a frightened gaze atsomething outside the window, but close to the bars. I am looking at avast, misty swine-face, over which fluctuates a flamboyant flame, of agreenish hue. It is the Thing from the arena. The quivering mouth seemsto drip with a continual, phosphorescent slaver. The eyes are staringstraight into the room, with an inscrutable expression. Thus, I sitrigidly--frozen.
The Thing has begun to move. It is turning, slowly, in my direction.Its face is coming 'round toward me. It sees me. Two huge, inhumanlyhuman, eyes are looking through the dimness at me. I am cold with fear;yet, even now, I am keenly conscious, and note, in an irrelevant way,that the distant stars are blotted out by the mass of the giant face.
A fresh horror has come to me. I am rising from my chair, without theleast intention. I am on my feet, and something is impelling me towardthe door that leads out into the gardens. I wish to stop; but cannot.Some immutable power is opposed to my will, and I go slowly forward,unwilling and resistant. My glance flies 'round the room, helplessly,and stops at the window. The great swine-face has disappeared, and Ihear, again, that stealthy pad, pad, pad. It stops outside thedoor--the door toward which I am being compelled....
There succeeds a short, intense silence; then there comes a sound. Itis the rattle of the latch, being
slowly lifted. At that, I am filledwith desperation. I will not go forward another step. I make a vasteffort to return; but it is, as though I press back, upon an invisiblewall. I groan out loud, in the agony of my fear, and the sound of myvoice is frightening. Again comes that rattle, and I shiver, clammily. Itry--aye, fight and struggle, to hold back, _back_; but it is no use....
I am at the door, and, in a mechanical way, I watch my hand go forward,to undo the topmost bolt. It does so, entirely without my volition. Evenas I reach up toward the bolt, the door is violently shaken, and I get asickly whiff of mouldy air, which seems to drive in through theinterstices of the doorway. I draw the bolt back, slowly, fighting,dumbly, the while. It comes out of its socket, with a click, and I beginto shake, aguishly. There are two more; one at the bottom of the door;the other, a massive affair, is placed about the middle.
For, perhaps a minute, I stand, with my arms hanging slackly, by mysides. The influence to meddle with the fastenings of the door, seems tohave gone. All at once, there comes the sudden rattle of iron, at myfeet. I glance down, quickly, and realize, with an unspeakable terror,that my foot is pushing back the lower bolt. An awful sense ofhelplessness assails me.... The bolt comes out of its hold, with aslight, ringing sound and I stagger on my feet, grasping at the great,central bolt, for support. A minute passes, an eternity; thenanother----My God, help me! I am being forced to work upon the lastfastening. _I will not!_ Better to die, than open to the Terror, that ison the other side of the door. Is there no escape ...? God help me, Ihave jerked the bolt half out of its socket! My lips emit a hoarsescream of terror, the bolt is three parts drawn, now, and still myunconscious hands work toward my doom. Only a fraction of steel, betweenmy soul and That. Twice, I scream out in the supreme agony of my fear;then, with a mad effort, I tear my hands away. My eyes seem blinded. Agreat blackness is falling upon me. Nature has come to my rescue. I feelmy knees giving. There is a loud, quick thudding upon the door, and I amfalling, falling....
I must have lain there, at least a couple of hours. As I recover, I amaware that the other candle has burnt out, and the room is in an almosttotal darkness. I cannot rise to my feet, for I am cold, and filled witha terrible cramp. Yet my brain is clear, and there is no longer thestrain of that unholy influence.
Cautiously, I get upon my knees, and feel for the central bolt. I findit, and push it securely back into its socket; then the one at thebottom of the door. By this time, I am able to rise to my feet, and somanage to secure the fastening at the top. After that, I go down upon myknees, again, and creep away among the furniture, in the direction ofthe stairs. By doing this, I am safe from observation from the window.
I reach the opposite door, and, as I leave the study, cast one nervousglance over my shoulder, toward the window. Out in the night, I seem tocatch a glimpse of something impalpable; but it may be only a fancy.Then, I am in the passage, and on the stairs.
Reaching my bedroom, I clamber into bed, all clothed as I am, and pullthe bedclothes over me. There, after awhile, I begin to regain a littleconfidence. It is impossible to sleep; but I am grateful for the addedwarmth of the bedclothes. Presently, I try to think over the happeningsof the past night; but, though I cannot sleep, I find that it isuseless, to attempt consecutive thought. My brain seems curiously blank.
Toward morning, I begin to toss, uneasily. I cannot rest, and, afterawhile, I get out of bed, and pace the floor. The wintry dawn isbeginning to creep through the windows, and shows the bare discomfort ofthe old room. Strange, that, through all these years, it has neveroccurred to me how dismal the place really is. And so a time passes.
From somewhere down stairs, a sound comes up to me. I go to the bedroomdoor, and listen. It is Mary, bustling about the great, old kitchen,getting the breakfast ready. I feel little interest. I am not hungry. Mythoughts, however; continue to dwell upon her. How little the weirdhappenings in this house seem to trouble her. Except in the incident ofthe Pit creatures, she has seemed unconscious of anything unusualoccurring. She is old, like myself; yet how little we have to do withone another. Is it because we have nothing in common; or only that,being old, we care less for society, than quietness? These and othermatters pass through my mind, as I meditate; and help to distract myattention, for a while, from the oppressive thoughts of the night.
After a time, I go to the window, and, opening it, look out. The sun isnow above the horizon, and the air, though cold, is sweet and crisp.Gradually, my brain clears, and a sense of security, for the time being,comes to me. Somewhat happier, I go down stairs, and out into thegarden, to have a look at the dog.
As I approach the kennel, I am greeted by the same mouldy stench thatassailed me at the door last night. Shaking off a momentary sense offear, I call to the dog; but he takes no heed, and, after calling oncemore, I throw a small stone into the kennel. At this, he moves,uneasily, and I shout his name, again; but do not go closer. Presently,my sister comes out, and joins me, in trying to coax him fromthe kennel.
In a little the poor beast rises, and shambles out lurching queerly. Inthe daylight he stands swaying from side to side, and blinking stupidly.I look and note that the horrid wound is larger, much larger, and seemsto have a whitish, fungoid appearance. My sister moves to fondle him;but I detain her, and explain that I think it will be better not to gotoo near him for a few days; as it is impossible to tell what may be thematter with him; and it is well to be cautious.
A minute later, she leaves me; coming back with a basin of odd scrapsof food. This she places on the ground, near the dog, and I push it intohis reach, with the aid of a branch, broken from one of the shrubs. Yet,though the meat should be tempting, he takes no notice of it; butretires to his kennel. There is still water in his drinking vessel, so,after a few moments' talk, we go back to the house. I can see that mysister is much puzzled as to what is the matter with the animal; yet itwould be madness, even to hint the truth to her.
The day slips away, uneventfully; and night comes on. I have determinedto repeat my experiment of last night. I cannot say that it is wisdom;yet my mind is made up. Still, however, I have taken precautions; for Ihave driven stout nails in at the back of each of the three bolts, thatsecure the door, opening from the study into the gardens. This will, atleast, prevent a recurrence of the danger I ran last night.
From ten to about two-thirty, I watch; but nothing occurs; and,finally, I stumble off to bed, where I am soon asleep.