The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1892-07-31
bad. Maybe he smelled a dead

up the road. Maybe he smeIled dead
man.
The group around the fire in the venerable
house were listening and waiting. The
atmosphere Of the room was tense. The
slate colored man's face was twitching aud
his Grabbed bands we're gripped together.
The little man was continually looking be
hind his chair. Upon the countenance of
the pudgy man appeared conceit for an ap-
preaching triumph over the little man,
mingled with apprehension for his own
safety. Five pipes glowed as rivals of the
timid caDdle Profound silence dropped
heavily over them. Finally the slate-colored
man spoke.
"My OF uncle, Jim Croker, he's sick ter
DEATH"
The four men started and then shrank
back in their chairs.
Damn i'll" replied the little man, vaguely.
Again there was long silence. Sud-
denly it was broken by wild cry from the
room above. It was a shrek that struck
flash of lightning. The walls whirled and
the floor rumbled. 1t brought the men to-
gether with q rush. They huddled in q
heap and stared at the white terror in each
others faces. The slate-colored man
grasped the candle and fared it above his
head. "The black dorg," he howled, and
plunged at the stairway. The maddened
four men followed frantically, for it is bet
ter to be in the presence of the awful than
only within hearing.
Their ears still qulverIng with the shrek,
they bounced through the hole in the cell
ing, and into the sick room.
With quilts drawn closely TO his shrunken
breast for shield, his bony hand gripping
the cover, an old man lay, with glazing
eyes fixed on the open window. HIS throat
gurgled and froth appeared at his mouth.
From the outer darkness came d strange,
unnatural wall, burdened with weight OF
death and each note filed with foreoodlng.
1t was the song of the spectral dog.
God" screamed the little man. He ran
to the open wind W. He could see nothing
at first save the pine trees, engaged in a fu-
rious combat, tossing back and forth and
struggling. The moon was peeping eau
tiously over the rims of SOME black clouds
But the chant Of the phantom guided the
little mans eyes, and he at length perceived
it's shadowy form on the ground under the
window. He fell away gaspinG a. the sight.
The pudgy man crouched in a corner, chat
tering insanely. The slate-colored man, in
his fear, crooked his legs and looked like a
hideous Chinese idol. The man upon the
bed was turned TO stone, save the froth,
which pulsated.
In the final struggle, terror will flght the
inevitable. The little man roared maniscal
curses, aud rushing again TO the window.
ter.
A mug, plate, knife, fork, all crashed
or changed on the ground. but the song Of
the specter continued. The bowl Of beef
tea followed. AS it struck the ground the
phantom ceased its cry,
The men in the chamber sank Imply
against the walls, with the unesrthly vail
still ringing in their ears and the fear IN
faded from their eyes. They waited again.
The little man felt his nerves vibrRte.
Destruction was better than another wait
He grssped a candle, and, going to the win
dow. held It over his head aud looked ont.
"Hom he said
"His companions crawled to the window
and peered out with him.
Hes eatin' the beef-tea," said the slate
oolored man, family.
The damn dog was hungry" said the
pudgy man.
There's your phantom" said the little
man 10 the pudgy man.
On the bed the old man lay dead With
out, the specter was wagging its tail.