Detective and mystery stories, English; Horror tales, English
By good luck I had slipped several biscuits into my pocket before I
left the farm-house. These I now devoured, and washed them down with a
draught from that wretched stream which had been the cause of all my
misfortunes. Then I felt about for a comfortable seat among the rocks,
and, having discovered a place where I could get a support for my back,
I stretched out my legs and settled myself down to wait. I was
wretchedly damp and cold, but I tried to cheer myself with the
reflection that modern science prescribed open windows and walks in all
weather for my disease. Gradually, lulled by the monotonous gurgle of
the stream, and by the absolute darkness, I sank into an uneasy slumber.
How long this lasted I cannot say. It may have been for an hour, it
may have been for several. Suddenly I sat up on my rock couch, with
every nerve thrilling and every sense acutely on the alert. Beyond all
doubt I had heard a sound--some sound very distinct from the gurgling
of the waters. It had passed, but the reverberation of it still
lingered in my ear. Was it a search party? They would most certainly
have shouted, and vague as this sound was which had wakened me, it was
very distinct from the human voice. I sat palpitating and hardly
daring to breathe. There it was again! And again! Now it had become
continuous. It was a tread--yes, surely it was the tread of some
living creature. But what a tread it was! It gave one the impression
of enormous weight carried upon sponge-like feet, which gave forth a
muffled but ear-filling sound. The darkness was as complete as ever,
but the tread was regular and decisive. And it was coming beyond all
question in my direction.
My skin grew cold, and my hair stood on end as I listened to that
steady and ponderous footfall. There was some creature there, and
surely by the speed of its advance, it was one which could see in the
dark. I crouched low on my rock and tried to blend myself into it.
The steps grew nearer still, then stopped, and presently I was aware of
a loud lapping and gurgling. The creature was drinking at the stream.
Then again there was silence, broken by a succession of long sniffs and
snorts of tremendous volume and energy. Had it caught the scent of me?
My own nostrils were filled by a low fetid odour, mephitic and
abominable. Then I heard the steps again. They were on my side of the
stream now. The stones rattled within a few yards of where I lay.
Hardly daring to breathe, I crouched upon my rock. Then the steps drew
away. I heard the splash as it returned across the river, and the
sound died away into the distance in the direction from which it had
come.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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