The Hound of the Baskervilles | Page 8

upon her track. 'But I have seen
more than that,' said he, 'for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there
ran mute behind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.' So
the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward. But soon their skins turned

cold, for there came a galloping across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white
froth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode close
together, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each,
had he been alone, would have been right glad to have turned his horse's head. Riding
slowly in this fashion they came at last upon the hounds. These, though known for their
valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as
we call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring
eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them.
"The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you may guess, than when they
started. The most of them would by no means advance, but three of them, the boldest, or
it may be the most drunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into a broad
space in which stood two of those great stones, still to be seen there, which were set by
certain forgotten peoples in the days of old. The moon was shining bright upon the
clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear
and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the body of
Hugo Baskerville lying near her, which raised the hair upon the heads of these three
daredevil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat, there
stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound
that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out
of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them,
the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor. One,
it is said, died that very night of what he had seen, and the other twain were but broken
men for the rest of their days.
"Such is the tale, my sons, of the coming of the hound which is said to have plagued the
family so sorely ever since. If I have set it down it is because that which is clearly known
hath less terror than that which is but hinted at and guessed. Nor can it be denied that
many of the family have been unhappy in their deaths, which have been sudden, bloody,
and mysterious. Yet may we shelter ourselves in the infinite goodness of Providence,
which would not forever punish the innocent beyond that third or fourth generation which
is threatened in Holy Writ. To that Providence, my sons, I hereby commend you, and I
counsel you by way of caution to forbear from crossing the moor in those dark hours
when the powers of evil are exalted.
"[This from Hugo Baskerville to his sons Rodger and John, with instructions that they say
nothing thereof to their sister Elizabeth.]"
When Dr. Mortimer had finished reading this singular narrative he pushed his spectacles
up on his forehead and stared across at Mr. Sherlock Holmes. The latter yawned and
tossed the end of his cigarette into the fire.
"Well?" said he.
"Do you not find it interesting?"
"To a collector of fairy tales."

Dr. Mortimer drew a folded newspaper out of his pocket.
"Now, Mr. Holmes, we will give you something a little more recent. This is the Devon
County Chronicle of May 14th of this year. It is a short account of the facts elicited at the
death of Sir Charles Baskerville which occurred a few days before that date."
My friend leaned a little forward and his expression became intent. Our visitor readjusted
his glasses and began:--
"The recent sudden death of Sir Charles Baskerville, whose name has been mentioned as
the probable Liberal candidate for Mid-Devon at the next election, has cast a gloom over
the county. Though Sir Charles had resided at Baskerville Hall for a comparatively short
period his amiability of character and extreme generosity had won the affection and
respect of all who had been brought into contact with him. In these days of nouveaux
riches it is refreshing to find a case where the scion of an old county family which has
fallen upon evil