Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1892-09-22


He hurriedly prepared mixture with
hot voter, salt and beef. Beef tea it
might be called. He disappeared again.
Once more the party below heard,
vaguely, talking over their heads. The
voice Of age arose to shrek.
"Open the window, fool! Do you
think l can live in the smell of your
soup?"
Mutterings by the slate colored man
and the creaking of a window were
heard.
The slate colored man stumbled down
the stairs, and said with intense gloom,
1.-THE black dorg'll be along soon."
The little man started and the pudgy
man sneered at him. They ate supper
and then sat waiting. The pudgy man
listened so palpably that the little man
wished to kill him. The wood fire be-
came excited and sputtered frantically.
Without thousand spirits of the winds
had become entangled in the pine
branches and were lowly pleading to be
loosened. The slate colored man tip
toed across the room and lit timid
candle. The men sat waiting.
The phantom dog lay cuddled to
round bundle, asleep down the roadway
against the windward side of an old
shanty. The specter's master had moved
to Pike county, but the dog fingered as
friend might linger at the tomb of a
friend. His fur was like suit of old
clothes. His jowls hung and Topped,
exposing his teeth. Yellow famine was
in his eyes. The wind rocked shanty
groaned and muttered, but the dog
slept Suddenly, however, he got up
and shambled to the roadway. He cast
a long glance from his hungry, despair
ing eyes in the direction of the venera-
BILE house. The breeze came full to his
nostrils. He threw back his head and
gave a long, low howl and started in
tently up the road. Maybe he smelled
a dead man.
The group around the fire in the ven
erable house were listening and waiting.
The atmosphere of the rom was tense.
The slate colored mans face was twitch-
ing and his drabbed hands were gripped
together. The little man was contin-
ually looking behind his chair. Upon
the countenance of the pudgy man ap-
peared conceit for an approaching tri-
umph over the little man, mingled with
apprehension for his own safety. Five
pipes glowed as rivals of the timid can
die. Profound silence dropped heavily
over them. Finally the slate colored
man spoke:
"My ol uncle, Jim Crocker, he's sick
ter death"
The four men started and then shrank
back in their chairs.
Damn itr' replied the little man
vaguely.
Again there was q long silence. Sud
denly it was broken by wild cry from
the room above. It was shrek that
struck upon them with appalling swift
ness, like a flash of lightning. The
walls whirled and the floor rumbled. 1t
brought the men together with rush.
They huddled in a heap and stared at
the white terror in each others faces.
The slate colored man grasped the can.
die 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 better
to be in the presence of the awful than
only within hearing.
Their ears still quivering with the
shrek, they bounded through the hole
in the ceiling and into the sickroom.
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 a
froth appeared at his mouth.
From the outer darkness came q
strange, unnatural wall, burdened with
weight of death, and each note filled
!, with foreboding. It was the song Of
the spectral dog.
"God!" screamed the little man. He
ran to the open window. He could see
nothing at first save the pine trees, en-
gagged in furious combat tossing back
and forth and struggling. The moor
was peeping cautiously over the rims Of
some black clouds. But the chant Of
the phantom guided the little mans
eyes, and he at length perceived its
shadowy form on the ground under the
window. He fell away gasping at the
sight. The pudgy man crouched in 6
corner, chattering insanely. The slate
colored man, in his fear, crooked his
legs and looked like hideous Chinese
idol. The man upon the bed was turned
to stone, save the froth, which pulsated
In the final struggle terror will fght
the inevitable. The little man roareG
maniacal curses, and rushing again tt
the window began to throw various ar
ticles at the specter.
A mug, a plate, knife, a fork, al
crashed or changed on the ground, but
the song of the specter continued. The
bowl of beef tea followed. AS it stRucl
the ground the phantom ceased it's cry.
The men in the chamber sank Imply
against the walls, with the unearthlJ
wall still ringing in their ears and The
fear unfaded from their eyes. They
waited again.
The little man felt his nerves vibrate
; Destruction was better than another
wait. He grasped candle and, going
to the window. held it over his head anG
looked out.
"Hor' he said.
, His companions crawled to the win
dow and peered out with him.
"He's eatin the beef tea," said ths
slate colored man family.
1.-The damn dog was hungry" said tht
pudgy man.
"There's your phantom" " said the little
man to the pudgy man.
! On the bed, the old man lay dead
Without, the specter was wagging it
tail.-New York Tribune.