Page:Weird Tales Volume 2 Number 2 (1923-09).djvu/61

60  that was soaked with rain and mud, his teeth chattering from the cold, he was a sorry looking object. Glancing down I noticed that his feet were bare.

I was almost tempted to laugh at his predicament, but a look of horror shone in his eyes and twisted his dirt-covered face into a horrible grimace.

Suppressing the numerous questions that I wanted to ask, I exclaimed:

"Lord! Chadwick, you must be almost frozen. Come into the library and sit by the fire until I can hunt you up something to wear that will be more comfortable than what you have on now."

A hot bath, warm clothes, a hot whisky and a good cigar helped dispel some of the fear that haunted him.

It seemed almost beyond reason that he, Hapesworth Chadwick, who had faced death times without number while hunting animals in the wildest parts of the African jungles, could be the same man sitting in front of me, who at every sound of the raging storm gave a nervous start and glance over his shoulder.

The slithering swish of the rain crept into the stillness of the room, rattling with ghostly fingers against the windows. A convulsive shudder shook my companion.

"Now, Chadwick, tell me—what is it all about?" I asked, trying to suppress the agitation in my voice.

As the sound of my voice broke the sudden stillness of the room, my friend gave a violent start, and almost rose up out of his chair.

"God! Madden, when I think of the horrible thing I saw back there in my room, my flesh crawls."

Lifting a trembling hand he drew it across his forehead, letting it rest a moment over his eyes as if to shut out some vision of horror.

There was a moment of silence. I could hear the wind as it went wailing through the trees.

With a tremendous effort my friend pulled himself together and began to talk:

"You remember that last trip I made to Africa? It was about two years ago, I guess. Well, as you know, I went after gorillas. The lot I had brought back the year before contracted some kind of disease and died. It was therefore up to me to get another supply of the beasts.

"On the sixth day we plunged into a thick swamp. The odor of decay and mold was sickening. As our progress led us deeper into that hell-hole, the air grew heavier. It smelt dead.

"Suddenly one of the bush-beaters up ahead of me gave a yell. There was a crashing of brush, and an old she-gorilla carrying a young one at its breast bore down upon us. Froth dripped from its mouth. On the instant I raised my rifle and fired. With a scream the beast slumped to the ground, the young one tightly clutched to its breast.

"As two of the native boys were trying to get the young one out of the grip of the mother’s powerful arms, I made the discovery that my bullet had only grazed the side of the brute’s head, and instead of being dead it was only senseless. At last we managed to get the little one free and by rare good fortune we also succeeded in getting the mother back to camp before she regained consciousness.

"In the days that followed we obtained quite a collection of the smaller animals. The old one by this time had recovered from the wound on the side of her head where my bullet had creased her. As the wound healed it left a long scar that ran from the side of the mouth straight back above the left ear.

"I had kept the little one away from its mother, and we became quite chummy. One day I took it into my hut and let it out of the cage to see what it would do. As I stood watching its foolish antics, I heard excited shouts coming from the native guides outside. Forgetting about the little one, I rushed out, leaving the door open. When I came back the young gorilla was gone. Glancing through the door, I saw it running toward the cage that held its mother.

"With a bound I was after it. I caught it just as it came up to the cage. As I clutched the little fellow, the mother let out a roar of rage and began tearing at the bars of her cage in a wild frenzy to reach me. As the howls of its mother increased in volume it started to scratch and bite like a little devil, in an effort to get away. Intending to choke it into insensibility I grasped it hy the throat, I must have held it in my grip too long, for when I dropped it to the ground it was dead.

"The mother seemed to sense what I had done. She stopped her attempt to break loose. Settling back on her haunches she uttered a screech that made my blood run cold. As I looked at her there in her cage her eyes seemed to burn into mine. I could almost feel the hatred that smoldered in them. Low guttural sounds of agony issued from the thick hairy throat. Froth, thick and stringy, dripped from the mouth onto the broad breast.

" [sic]Turning on my heel I strode back to my hut. All that night I had terrible dreams that always had the same end—I was struggling in the arms of a bestial gorilla that was ever tryngtrying [sic] to tear my throat open with its yellow tusks.

"The next morning her cage was open and she was gone. How the cage had been opened I do not know, nor was I ever able to find out. But the old gorilla had vanished and had taken her dead with her."

The man sat there, gazing into the flames, I listened to the rain tap-tap-tapping, like skeleton fingers on the window pane.

My friend looked up.

"I then dismissed the whole thing from my mind, I would never have given it another thought but for what happened yesterday, when I chanced to drop into the menagerie tent of a circus. You can believe me or not, Madden, but when I came out of the tent I was trembling with fear. A wild impulse to ran gripped me as a long drawn, eerie cry floated to me on the wind.

"In one of the cages in that tent was the same animal that had escaped from me in the jungles of Africa!"

A high-pitched scream, that seamed a part, yet independent, of the wind caused my friend's face to turn an ashen gray.

"What was that, Madden? Did you hear? Good God!"

Trembling, he sank deeper into his chair, as though to hide from the invisible terror that haunted him.

"Tt was only the wind," I told him in an assuring tone, although in my own heart I was not sure whether it was or not. "You were saying?"

"Oh! yes—let's see—. Where was I?"

Like a man in a trance he seemed searching his mind to gather together the loose ends of a shattered thought.

"Oh! yes—now I remember. After leaving the circus tent I went direct to my rooms. I had a feeling of impending doom. Try as I would I could not shake it off. That cry I had heard was still ringing in my ears when I climbed into my bath. I felt considerably better after the plunge, so, picking up a book I threw myself on the bed and began to read. It was still daylight when I lay down, therefore I had no need of lights.

"I must have fallen asleep, for with a start I found myself sitting up in bed. The darkness seemed so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Once more that feeling of doom possessed me. Cold beads of perspiration covered my forehead. I brushed a hand across my face. It was wet and clammy. Death seemed reaching out its bony hands to clutch me by the throat. The next instant my blood froze with terror, for out of the night there came to me, lying there in the inky blackness of my room, a long drawn animal-like cry. Springing from bed I switched on the lights. As I stood