Page:Frank Owen - The Wind That Tramps the World (1929).djvu/113

 the house was really sinister. It was a house of horror which all wise folk might well avoid. The Frog-man who dwelt in the swamp was a dreadful character, a necromancer whose heart matched jet.

"Once," he told the numerous loiterers who frequented his tea-house, "I was passing the swamp-garden on a night when the moon was idle. I paused for a moment fascinated outside the gate and as I gazed within I noticed a dozen men in white robes marching slowly off into the winding trails of the forest. Each carried a lantern which glimmered like a firefly in the darkness. Sombrely, soundlessly they marched along, like dead men escaped from their tombs. They were on their way to commune with the Frog-man for he only in all Canton is able to converse with spirits. All through the dark night they remained in the heart of the swamp plotting weird crimes. Until dawn I waited as though bound by a spell, and then as the sun's first gleam appeared like a sword in the East, they returned. They emerged from the forest and marched soundlessly up toward the gate before which I stood. I shuddered as I beheld them. For me there seemed no escape. But as each one crept through the gate he disappeared into the air. It was a strange sight to witness. Every man of them vanished before my very eyes. Necromancy ended as they passed the gate. Such was one of my experiences before the swamp garden and I have had many, each less believable than the last. Truly the Frog-man is a menace to the good