Out of Times Abyss | Page 7

which we have
met here and with which we should be accustomed by this time."
Tippet looked up. His face was still ashy. "Yer cawn't tell me," he cried.
"Hi seen hit. Blime, Hi seen hit. Hit was ha dead man flyin' through the
hair. Didn't Hi see 'is heyes? Oh, Gord! Didn't Hi see 'em?"
"It didn't look like any beast or reptile to me," spoke up Sinclair. "It
was lookin' right down at me when I looked up and I saw its face plain
as I see yours. It had big round eyes that looked all cold and dead, and
its cheeks were sunken in deep, and I could see its yellow teeth behind
thin, tight-drawn lips--like a man who had been dead a long while, sir,"
he added, turning toward Bradley.
"Yes!" James had not spoken since the apparition had passed over them,
and now it was scarce speech which he uttered--rather a series of
articulate gasps. "Yes--dead--a--long--while. It--means something.
It--come--for some--one. For one--of us. One--of us is goin'-- to die.
I'm goin' to die!" he ended in a wail.
"Come! Come!" snapped Bradley. "Won't do. Won't do at all. Get to
work, all of you. Waste of time. Can't waste time."
His authoritative tones brought them all up standing, and presently each
was occupied with his own duties; but each worked in silence and there
was no singing and no bantering such as had marked the making of
previous camps. Not until they had eaten and to each had been issued
the little ration of smoking tobacco allowed after each evening meal did
any sign of a relaxation of taut nerves appear. It was Brady who
showed the first signs of returning good spirits. He commenced
humming "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" and presently to voice the
words, but he was well into his third song before anyone joined him,
and even then there seemed a dismal note in even the gayest of tunes.
A huge fire blazed in the opening of their rocky shelter that the
prowling carnivora might be kept at bay; and always one man stood on
guard, watchfully alert against a sudden rush by some maddened beast
of the jungle. Beyond the fire, yellow-green spots of flame appeared,

moved restlessly about, disappeared and reappeared, accompanied by a
hideous chorus of screams and growls and roars as the hungry
meat-eaters hunting through the night were attracted by the light or the
scent of possible prey.
But to such sights and sounds as these the five men had become callous.
They sang or talked as unconcernedly as they might have done in the
bar-room of some publichouse at home.
Sinclair was standing guard. The others were listening to Brady's
description of traffic congestion at the Rush Street bridge during the
rush hour at night. The fire crackled cheerily. The owners of the
yellow-green eyes raised their frightful chorus to the heavens.
Conditions seemed again to have returned to normal. And then, as
though the hand of Death had reached out and touched them all, the
five men tensed into sudden rigidity.
Above the nocturnal diapason of the teeming jungle sounded a dismal
flapping of wings and over head, through the thick night, a shadowy
form passed across the diffused light of the flaring camp-fire. Sinclair
raised his rifle and fired. An eerie wail floated down from above and
the apparition, whatever it might have been, was swallowed by the
darkness. For several seconds the listening men heard the sound of
those dismally flapping wings lessening in the distance until they could
no longer be heard.
Bradley was the first to speak. "Shouldn't have fired, Sinclair," he said;
"can't waste ammunition." But there was no note of censure in his tone.
It was as though he understood the nervous reaction that had compelled
the other's act.
"I couldn't help it, sir," said Sinclair. "Lord, it would take an iron man
to keep from shootin' at that awful thing. Do you believe in ghosts,
sir?"
"No," replied Bradley. "No such things."
"I don't know about that," said Brady. "There was a woman murdered

over on the prairie near Brighton--her throat was cut from ear to ear,
and--"
"Shut up," snapped Bradley.
"My grandaddy used to live down Coppington wy," said Tippet. "They
were a hold ruined castle on a 'ill near by, hand at midnight they used to
see pale blue lights through the windows an 'ear--"
"Will you close your hatch!" demanded Bradley. "You fools will have
yourselves scared to death in a minute. Now go to sleep."
But there was little sleep in camp that night until utter exhaustion
overtook the harassed men toward morning; nor was there any return of
the weird creature that had set the nerves of each of them on edge.