For the first minute, I could hear the melancholy sound of Pepper's
howling, coming down to me. Gradually, as I penetrated further into the
darkness, it grew fainter; until, in a little while, I could hear
nothing. The path tended downward somewhat, and to the left. Thence it
kept on, still running to the left, until I found that it was leading me
right in the direction of the house.
Very cautiously, I moved onward, stopping, every few steps, to listen.
I had gone, perhaps, a hundred yards, when, suddenly, it seemed to me
that I caught a faint sound, somewhere along the passage behind. With my
heart thudding heavily, I listened. The noise grew plainer, and appeared
to be approaching, rapidly. I could hear it distinctly, now. It was the
soft padding of running feet. In the first moments of fright, I stood,
irresolute; not knowing whether to go forward or backward. Then, with a
sudden realization of the best thing to do, I backed up to the rocky
wall on my right, and, holding the candle above my head, waited--gun in
hand--cursing my foolhardy curiosity, for bringing me into such
a strait.
I had not long to wait, but a few seconds, before two eyes reflected
back from the gloom, the rays of my candle. I raised my gun, using my
right hand only, and aimed quickly. Even as I did so, something leapt
out of the darkness, with a blustering bark of joy that woke the echoes,
like thunder. It was Pepper. How he had contrived to scramble down the
cleft, I could not conceive. As I brushed my hand, nervously, over his
coat, I noticed that he was dripping; and concluded that he must have
tried to follow me, and fallen into the water; from which he would not
find it very difficult to climb.
Having waited a minute, or so, to steady myself, I proceeded along the
way, Pepper following, quietly. I was curiously glad to have the old
fellow with me. He was company, and, somehow, with him at my heels, I
was less afraid. Also, I knew how quickly his keen ears would detect the
presence of any unwelcome creature, should there be such, amid the
darkness that wrapped us.
For some minutes we went slowly along; the path still leading straight
toward the house. Soon, I concluded, we should be standing right beneath
it, did the path but carry far enough. I led the way, cautiously, for
another fifty yards, or so. Then, I stopped, and held the light high;
and reason enough I had to be thankful that I did so; for there, not
three paces forward, the path vanished, and, in place, showed a hollow
blackness, that sent sudden fear through me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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