The House on the Borderland Read Free

turning over the whole of the upheaped stones and
rubbish, we came upon nothing more than some fragments of broken wood,
that might have been parts of a desk or table; and so we gave up
searching, and went back along the rock, once more to the safety of
the land.
    The next thing we did was to make a complete tour of the tremendous
chasm, which we were able to observe was in the form of an almost
perfect circle, save for where the ruin-crowned spur of rock jutted out,
spoiling its symmetry.
    The abyss was, as Tonnison put it, like nothing so much as a gigantic
well or pit going sheer down into the bowels of the earth.
    For some time longer, we continued to stare about us, and then, noticing
that there was a clear space away to the north of the chasm, we bent our
steps in that direction.
    Here, distant from the mouth of the mighty pit by some hundreds of
yards, we came upon a great lake of silent water—silent, that is, save
in one place where there was a continuous bubbling and gurgling.
    Now, being away from the noise of the spouting cataract, we were able to
hear one another speak, without having to shout at the tops of our
voices, and I asked Tonnison what he thought of the place—I told him
that I didn't like it, and that the sooner we were out of it the better
I should be pleased.
    He nodded in reply, and glanced at the woods behind furtively. I asked
him if he had seen or heard anything. He made no answer; but stood
silent, as though listening, and I kept quiet also.
    Suddenly, he spoke.
    "Hark!" he said, sharply. I looked at him, and then away among the trees
and bushes, holding my breath involuntarily. A minute came and went in
strained silence; yet I could hear nothing, and I turned to Tonnison to
say as much; and then, even as I opened my lips to speak, there came a
strange wailing noise out of the wood on our left.... It appeared to
float through the trees, and there was a rustle of stirring leaves, and
then silence.
    All at once, Tonnison spoke, and put his hand on my shoulder. "Let us
get out of here," he said, and began to move slowly toward where the
surrounding trees and bushes seemed thinnest. As I followed him, it came
to me suddenly that the sun was low, and that there was a raw sense of
chilliness in the air.
    Tonnison said nothing further, but kept on steadily. We were among the
trees now, and I glanced around, nervously; but saw nothing, save the
quiet branches and trunks and the tangled bushes. Onward we went, and no
sound broke the silence, except the occasional snapping of a twig under
our feet, as we moved forward. Yet, in spite of the quietness, I had a
horrible feeling that we were not alone; and I kept so close to Tonnison
that twice I kicked his heels clumsily, though he said nothing. A
minute, and then another, and we reached the confines of the wood coming
out at last upon the bare rockiness of the countryside. Only then was I
able to shake off the haunting dread that had followed me among
the trees.
    Once, as we moved away, there seemed to come again a distant sound of
wailing, and I said to myself that it was the wind—yet the evening was
breathless.
    Presently, Tonnison began to talk.
    "Look you," he said with decision, "I would not spend the night in
that
place for all the wealth that the world holds. There is something
unholy—diabolical—about it. It came to me all in a moment, just after
you spoke. It seemed to me that the woods were full of vile
things—you know!"
    "Yes," I answered, and looked back toward the place; but it was hidden
from us by a rise in the ground.
    "There's the book," I said, and I put my hand into the satchel.
    "You've got it safely?" he questioned, with a sudden access of anxiety.
    "Yes," I replied.
    "Perhaps," he continued, "we shall learn something from it when we get
back to the tent. We had better hurry, too; we're a long way off still,
and I don't fancy, now, being caught out here in the dark."
    It was two hours later when we reached the tent; and, without