, 1876-06-30


changed again, and sounded at the head
of his bed. Sometimes it seemed close
at his right, and he turned only to hear
it on the other side, then in front, then
behind. Again and again he searched,
and swore in his evaporation and dis
appointment.
The sound became exaggerated by his
distempered imagination, till he trem-
bled lest some one else should hear this
omen which so plainly foretold his an
ticipated crime. Once an hour dragged
by, and his unseen tormentor was silent.
His eyes. that had glittered with deadly
hatred, now wore a startled look, and
wandered restlessly about the room.
An owl that perched on the topmost
branch of high tree near by, screamed
loud and long. A bat few in at the open
window, banged against the ceiling, and
darted out.
Monk shivered. Leaning his head
between his arms, he drummed ner-
vously on the table with his fin
gerS. Instantly the clear, metal
lie click sounded again. He looked up,
and strange light broke into his face
mixed expression of amazement and
fed, then raising his hand, he tapped
lightly against the wood with his finger
nail. The last tap had not died until it
was answered by what seemed like
fainter repetition of itself.
Uttering q fearful oath, Monk re-
coiled from the table, but as if drawn
back and held by weird fascination, he
sat an hour striking the hard surface with
his nails, and pausing for the response
that each time came clear and distinct.
Gray streaks crept along the East, and
quivered like faded fringe bordering
the black canopy.
Still he sat tapping, but no answer
came. He waited, listened vainly; no
echo, no sound, and the dull, hueless
light of the cloudy morning glimmered
at his window. Then he threw himself
on his bed and fell into restless slum-
bers.
A damp, thick fog enveloped the
houses in its Shiny embrace. At night
fall its reeking folds gathered them
selves from the ground, and q noiseless
drizzle came suddenly down.
Monk had not stirred from the room
all day. The feverish sleep into which
|
noon, and now he stood at his window
looking out into the blackness. A
balmy air blew against his face. He
stretched out his hand and drew it back
suddenly, as il he had touched the
dead. It was cold and moist. He rubbed
it violently against his clothes, as
though he could not wipe of the damp
ness. A tremor seized upon him. Harkl
was that the dripping Of waterP No. A
sickly smile played over his counte-
nance. He went to the table, and
tapped lightly with his fingers, as he
had done before. In another moment
the taps were answered, and he involun-
tarily counted as they came, one-two
three ee-four-five-six- = then
all was silent. He made the call Sec
ond time; he tried it over and over, and
at each response ii ticked seven times,
never more, never less; but seven times,
clearly, distinctly. Suddenly he sprang
up, and, through shut teeth, hissed:
"The seventh day, by heaveni But
I'll cheat YOU'LL not kill HIM"
he darted noiseleesly down the stairs,
and struck out through the woods. In
half an hour he emerged on the edge of
the clearing, dozen yards from q chop
per's cabin. Creeping stealthily to the
door, he shook it, then after a moments
irresolution, cried out:
Petersl Petersl look out for Shifet.
he has sworn to murder you tonight.
Without waiting for reply he sprang
away, and was quickly lost among the
trees.
A moment afterward tall form arose
out Of the shadow Of q stump near the
cabin, and passed rapidly in an oppo-
site direction.
At the summit of the hill East of
Agatha, q steep precipice is formed by
great, bare, projecting rock. From
the valley, its outline resembles an en-
ormous face in profile, and they call it
"The Devils Head" The full moon
rendered the unbroken mass of cloud
translucent, producing q peculiar, sin
lister effect. The mist still blew through
the air, but in the zenith there was q
dull, ashen hue. and the surrounding
cloud was the color Of earth. The far
of hills doomed up majestic, terrible,
against the gloom; nearer objects were
strangely magnifed in the tawny light.
Ar the foot of this phantom crag, on q
terrace, is the ore-bank and blackened
coal-shed. Below rose the metal stack,
from whose stone hearth a waste of sand
sloped gently to the creek. The fur
mace squatted grim and black. Its
blood-shot eye was shut; its gaping
throat uttered no sigh, no groan; its
throbbing pulse was stilled-the fierce,
struggling monster was dead. The only
bright spot in all the valley was the yell
low circle made by the watchman's Ian
tern in the coal shed.
After leaving the % choppings, Monk