The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain, and Other StoriesCraddock, Charles Egbert
General
The Mystery of Witch-Face Mountain, and Other Stories
Craddock, Charles Egbert
Cumberland Mountains -- Fiction; Mountain life -- Fiction; Tennessee -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
The great silver flake which the comet struck out upon the serene
surface lay glinting there among the lesser stellar reflections, when
a man, kneeling in a gully of the steep bank sloping to the "salt
lick," leaned forward suddenly to gaze at it; then, with a gasp,
turned his eyes upward to that flaming blade drawn athwart the
peaceful sky. He did not utter a sound. The habit of silence essential
to the deer-hunter kept its mechanical hold upon his nerves. Only the
hand with which he grasped the half-exposed roots of a great
sycamore-tree, denuded in some partial caving of the bank long ago,
relaxed and trembled slightly.
He was a man of scant and narrow experience, his world the
impenetrable mountain wilderness, and, though seemingly the pupil of
nature, versed in the ways of beast and bird, the signs of the clouds,
the seasons of bourgeoning and burr, it was but of casual external
aspects. He knew naught of its wondrous history, its subtler
significance, its strange record--the flood-tides registered on that
cliff beyond the laurel; the reptilian trail in the ledge beneath the
butt of his rifle, the imprint still fast in the solid rock, albeit
the species extinct; the great bones of ancient unknown beasts sunk in
the depressions of this saline quagmire, which herds of them had once
frequented for the salt, as did of late the buffalo, and now the
timorous deer, wont to come, like shadows wavering in the wind, to
lick the briny earth. The strange, glinting blade overhead had no
claim on his recognition as the "comet of Aristotle," or the
"evil-disposed comet" personified by the Italians as Sir Great-Lance,
_il Signor Astone_, or Halley's comet, or Donati's. Self is the centre
of the solar system with many souls, and around this point do all its
incidents revolve. For _him_ that wondrous white fire was kindled in
the skies, for _him_, in special relation to his small life, to the
wish nearest his hot human heart, to the clumsy scheme dear to his
slow, crude brain. He thought it a warning then: and later he thought
this still.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account