My heart failed. How often are we courageous in daylight and timid by
night? Men unflinchingly face in sunshine dangers at which they shudder
in the darkness.
"How am I to descend into that abyss?" I gasped. "The sides are
perpendicular, the depth is unknown!" Then I cried in alarm, the sense
of distrust deepening: "Do you mean to drown me; is it for this you have
led me away from my native State, from friends, home and kindred? You
have enticed me into this wilderness. I have been decoyed, and, like a
foolish child, have willingly accompanied my destroyer. You feared to
murder me in my distant home; the earth could not have hidden me;
Niagara even might have given up my body to dismay the murderers! In
this underground river in the wilds of Kentucky, all trace of my
existence will disappear forever."
I was growing furious. My frenzied eyes searched the ground for some
missile of defense. By strange chance some one had left, on that
solitary spot, a rude weapon, providentially dropped for my use, I
thought. It was a small iron bolt or bar, somewhat rusted. I threw
myself upon the earth, and, as I did so, picked this up quickly, and
secreted it within my bosom. Then I arose and resumed my stormy
denunciation:
"You have played your part well, you have led your unresisting victim to
the sacrifice, but if I am compelled to plunge into this black grave,
you shall go with me!" I shrieked in desperation, and suddenly threw my
arms around the gentle adept, intending to hurl him into the chasm. At
this point I felt my hands seized from behind in a cold, clammy,
irresistible embrace, my fingers were loosed by a strong grasp, and I
turned, to find myself confronted by a singular looking being, who
quietly said:
"You are not to be destroyed; we wish only to do your bidding."
The speaker stood in a stooping position, with his face towards the
earth as if to shelter it from the sunshine. He was less than five feet
in height. His arms and legs were bare, and his skin, the color of light
blue putty, glistened in the sunlight like the slimy hide of a water
dog. He raised his head, and I shuddered in affright as I beheld that
his face was not that of a human. His forehead extended in an unbroken
plane from crown to cheek bone, and the chubby tip of an abortive nose
without nostrils formed a short projection near the center of the level
ridge which represented a countenance. There was no semblance of an eye,
for there were no sockets. Yet his voice was singularly perfect. His
face, if face it could be called, was wet, and water dripped from all
parts of his slippery person. Yet, repulsive as he looked, I shuddered
more at the remembrance of the touch of that cold, clammy hand than at
the sight of his figure, for a dead man could not have chilled me as he
had done, with his sappy skin, from which the moisture seemed to ooze as
from the hide of a water lizard.
[Illustration: "CONFRONTED BY A SINGULAR LOOKING BEING."]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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