The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1903-10-17
The FO0TSTEP OF FEAR /
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By L. II. HAMMOND.

IL was CnrlStlne s Irlenu, ION, through
i whom Fear entered the child's
life. Before Tom began to spend his
evenings In the kitchen Christine had
been the most considerate of nurses.
When she tucked the bedclothes about
her small charge at night, and sat be-
side her until the little one fell asleep.
her talk had been all of fairies, and
hawthorn hedges, and the green Eng
lish fields in which she had played as
a child; but when Tom began to wait
for her below stairs-to wait in the
company of Ellen, the jolly cook, and
Maggie, the blue-eyed housemaid,
Christine had grown cross and impa-
tient. She undressed the little girl al
most roughly, and even hurried her
through her prayers. When she
tucked her In bed she refused to sit
beside her: and in answer to the
child's half-suppressed sob she paused
in the act of turning out the gas to
bend close above the small pillow and
the suddenly widened eyes that stared
at her in the dimmed light. Her voice
itself was threat as she opened the
door in the child's soul by which Fear
might enter in.
las long as you are good nothing
will hurt YOU" she concluded, more
kindly. BE quiet and don't tell and
you're all right" She turned the gas
quite out, and closed the door, leaving
Fear to watch in her place by the bed.
Not that the child called 1t Fear; she
knew no name for the vague, formless
thing. But its formlessness was an
added terror, which was heightened
by the fact that to her strained mag
ination an audible football came from
that void which was its presence, while
above its awful shapelessness she felt,
though she never saw-a face. Beast.
monster, devil-whether one or all of
these she could not say: and only be-
cause thing spoken of must be desig-
mated by word could one call the
dark impersonal presence It,
Every night after this 1t came, a
terrible black emptiness moving with
slow, steady steps to the child's bed.
The steps fell first in the long hall,
when Christine turned out the nursery
gas. AS she went out she moved noise
lessly over the thick carpet toward the
door which led to the back hail. and
the progress of her retreat was known
to the covering child only by the
sound of the others stealthy approach
"a sound distinctly heard above the
heavy beating of her own heart. 1t
moved a step nearer for every step that
Christine moved away; when she stood
at the door of the back hall 1t stood at
the nursery door, always; when she
opened the door-softly, lest II should
be known downstairs that she had
left the nursery before sleep came to
it's small inmate-It entered; and when
Christine closed the door behind her
1t sprang with great leap to the
child's bedside, and hung over her in |
the dark, moving and gliding, with |
an awful threat behind its senseless |
leer. She could never see the face
nor the leer; II she could have done
that she might have borne 1t; she only |
felt them through the shuddering dark. |
And II was not alone; the tiger un-
der the bed belonged to It, and the ape !
In the closet, and the man with the |
black mask and the sword. These also
were unseen enemies, but she knew
all about them; Christine had told her.
not chiy on that first dreadful night,
but often since. They were friends
of Christine's. in some mysterious
way, and SO long as the child obeyed
her they were not to be feared but
II she ever cried. or called for mother,
or told anyone that Christine did not
stay with her until she was asleep
then they would spring at her In the
dark and tear her limb from limb.
II she obeyed she was safe; Christine
uai& SO, and Christine never told lies;
Bh6 ssid she never did; and, besides.