American fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
"I looked again at the man's patient, fateful face, and then around the
cabin. In an instant the whole situation flashed before me. 'Are we
not near Cave City?' I asked.
"'Yes,' he replied, 'it's just below. You must have passed it in the
storm.'
"'I see.' I again looked around the cabin. 'Isn't this what they call
the haunted house?'
"He looked at me curiously. 'It is,' he said, simply.
"You can imagine my delight! Here was an opportunity to test the whole
story, to work down to the bed rock, and see how it would pan out! We
were too many and too well armed to fear tricks or dangers from
outsiders. If--as one theory had been held--the disturbance was kept
up by a band of concealed marauders or road agents, whose purpose was
to preserve their haunts from intrusion, we were quite able to pay them
back in kind for any assault. I need not say that the boys were
delighted with this prospect when the fact was revealed to them. The
only one doubtful or apathetic spirit there was our host, who quietly
resumed his seat and his book, with his old expression of patient
martyrdom. It would have been easy for me to have drawn him out, but I
felt that I did not want to corroborate anybody else's experience; only
to record my own. And I thought it better to keep the boys from any
predisposing terrors.
"We ate our supper, and then sat, patiently and expectant, around the
fire. An hour slipped away, but no disturbance; another hour passed as
monotonously. Our host read his book; only the dash of hail against
the roof broke the silence. But--"
The Doctor stopped. Since the last interruption, I noticed he had
changed the easy slangy style of his story to a more perfect, artistic,
and even studied manner. He dropped now suddenly into his old
colloquial speech, and quietly said: "If you don't quit stumbling over
those riatas, Juan, I'll hobble YOU. Come here, there; lie down, will
you?"
We all turned fiercely on the cause of this second dangerous
interruption, but a sight of the poor fellow's pale and frightened face
withheld our vindictive tongues. And the Doctor, happily, of his own
accord, went on:--
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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