Teig put his hand in his pocket, as well as he was able, and drew out
a flint and steel. He struck a spark out of it, and lit a burnt rag he
had in his pocket. He blew it until it made a flame, and he looked
round him. The church was very ancient, and part of the wall was
broken down. The windows were blown in or cracked, and the timber of
the seats was rotten. There were six or seven old iron candlesticks
left there still, and in one of these candlesticks Teig found the
stump of an old candle, and he lit it. He was still looking round him
on the strange and horrid place in which he found himself, when the
cold corpse whispered in his ear, "Bury me now, bury me now; there is
a spade and turn the ground." Teig looked from him, and he saw a spade
lying beside the altar. He took it up, and he placed the blade under a
flag that was in the middle of the aisle, and leaning all his weight
on the handle of the spade, he raised it. When the first flag was
raised it was not hard to raise the others near it, and he moved three
or four of them out of their places. The clay that was under them was
soft and easy to dig, but he had not thrown up more than three or four
shovelfuls, when he felt the iron touch something soft like flesh. He
threw up three or four more shovelfuls from around it, and then he saw
that it was another body that was buried in the same place.
"I am afraid I'll never be allowed to bury the two bodies in the same
hole," said Teig, in his own mind. "You corpse, there on my back,"
says he, "will you be satisfied if I bury you down here?" But the
corpse never answered him a word.
"That's a good sign," said Teig to himself. "Maybe he's getting
quiet," and he thrust the spade down in the earth again. Perhaps he
hurt the flesh of the other body, for the dead man that was buried
there stood up in the grave, and shouted an awful shout. "Hoo! hoo!!
hoo!!! Go! go!! go!!! or you're a dead, dead, dead man!" And then he
fell back in the grave again. Teig said afterwards, that of all the
wonderful things he saw that night, that was the most awful to him.
His hair stood upright on his head like the bristles of a pig, the
cold sweat ran off his face, and then came a tremour over all his
bones, until he thought that he must fall.
But after a while he became bolder, when he saw that the second corpse
remained lying quietly there, and he threw in the clay on it again, and
he smoothed it overhead and he laid down the flags carefully as they had
been before. "It can't be that he'll rise up any more," said he.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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