Morning came over the moors4 with bird-song and the glory of fine weather. The streams were still rolling in spate5, but the hill-pastures were alight with dawn, and the little seams of snow glistened6 like white fire. A ray from the sunrise cleft7 its path somehow into the abyss, and danced on the wall above my couch. It caught my eye as I wakened, and for long I lay crazily wondering what it meant. My head was splitting with pain, and in my heart was the same fluttering nameless fear. I did not wake to full consciousness; not till the twinkle of sun from the clean bright out-of-doors caught my senses did I realise that I lay in a great dark place with a glow of dull firelight in the middle.
In time things rose and moved around me, a few ragged8 shapes of men, without clothing, shambling with their huge feet and looking towards me with curved beast-like glances. I tried to marshal my thoughts, and slowly, bit by bit, I built up the present. There was no question to my mind of dreaming; the past hours had scored reality upon my brain. Yet I cannot say that fear was my chief feeling. The first crazy terror had subsided9, and now I felt mainly a sickened disgust with just a tinge10 of curiosity. I found that my knife, watch, flask11, and money had gone, but they had left me a map of the countryside. It seemed strange to look at the calico, with the name of a London printer stamped on the back, and lines of railway and highroad running through every shire. Decent and comfortable civilisation12! And here was I a prisoner in this den13 of nameless folk, and in the midst of a life which history knew not.
Courage is a virtue14 which grows with reflection and the absence of the immediate15 peril16. I thought myself into some sort of resolution, and lo! when the Folk approached me and bound my feet I was back at once in the most miserable17 terror. They tied me all but my hands with some strong cord, and carried me to the centre,’ where the fire was glowing. Their soft touch was the acutest torture to my nerves, but I stifled18 my cries lest some one should lay his hand on my mouth. Had that happened, I am convinced my reason would have failed me.
So there I lay in the shine of the fire, with the circle of unknown things around me. There seemed but three or four, but I took no note of number. They talked huskily among themselves in a tongue which sounded all gutturals. Slowly my fear became less an emotion than a habit, and I had room for the smallest shade of curiosity. I strained my ear to catch a word, but it was a mere19 chaos20 of sound. The thing ran and thundered in my brain as I stared dumbly into the vacant air. Then I thought that unless I spoke21 I should certainly go crazy, for my head was beginning to swim at the strange cooing noise.
I spoke a word or two in my best Gaelic, and they closed round me inquiringly. Then I was sorry I had spoken, for my words had brought them nearer, and I shrank at the thought. But as the faint echoes of my speech hummed in the rock-chamber, I was struck by a curious kinship of sound. Mine was sharper, more distinct, and staccato; theirs was blurred22, formless, but still with a certain root-resemblance.
Then from the back there came an older being, who seemed to have heard my words. He was like some foul23 grey badger24, his red eyes sightless, and his hands trembling on a stump25 of bog26-oak. The others made way for him with such deference27 as they were capable of, and the thing squatted28 down by me and spoke.
To my amazement29 his words were familiar. It was some manner of speech akin30 to the Gaelic, but broadened, lengthened31, coarsened. I remembered an old book-tongue, commonly supposed to be an impure32 dialect once used in Brittany, which I had met in the course of my researches. The words recalled it, and as far as I could remember the thing, I asked him who he was and where the place might be.
He answered me in the same speech — still more broadened, lengthened, coarsened. I lay back with sheer amazement. I had found the key to this unearthly life.
For a little an insatiable curiosity, the ardour of the scholar, prevailed. I forgot the horror of the place, and thought only of the fact that here before me was the greatest find that scholarship had ever made. I was precipitated33 into the heart of the past. Here must be the fountainhead of all legends, the chrysalis of all beliefs. I actually grew light-hearted. This strange folk around me were now no more shapeless things of terror, but objects of research and experiment. I almost came to think them not unfriendly.
For an hour I enjoyed the highest of earthly pleasures. In that strange conversation I heard — in fragments and suggestions — the history of the craziest survival the world has ever seen. I heard of the struggles with invaders34, preserved as it were in a sort of shapeless poetry. There were bitter words against the Gaelic oppressor, bitterer words against the Saxon stranger, and for a moment ancient hatreds35 flared into life. Then there came the tale of the hill-refuge, the morbid36 hideous37 existence preserved for centuries amid a changing world. I heard fragments of old religions, primeval names of god and goddess, half-understood by the Folk, but to me the key to a hundred puzzles. Tales which survive to us in broken disjointed riddles38 were intact here in living form. I lay on my elbow and questioned feverishly40. At any moment they might become morose41 and refuse to speak. Clearly it was my duty to make the most of a brief good fortune.
And then the tale they told me grew more hideous. I heard of the circumstances of the life itself and their daily shifts for existence. It was a murderous chronicle — a history of lust42 and rapine and unmentionable deeds in the darkness. One thing they had early recognised — that the race could not be maintained within itself; so that ghoulish carrying away of little girls from the lowlands began, which I had heard of but never credited. Shut up in those dismal43 holes, the girls soon died, and when the new race had grown up the plunder44 had been repeated. Then there were bestial45 murders in lonely cottages, done for God knows what purpose. Sometimes the occupant had seen more than was safe, sometimes the deed was the mere exuberance46 of a lust of slaying47. As they abbled their tales my heart’s blood froze, and I lay back in the agonie of fear. If they had used the others thus, what way of escape was op n for myself? I had been brought to this place, and not murdered on the spot. Clearly there was torture before death in store for me, and I confess I quailed48 at the thought.
But none molested49 me. The elders continued to jabber50 out their stories, while I lay tense and deaf. Then to my amazement food was brought and placed beside me — almost with respect. Clearly my murder was not a thing of the immediate future. The meal was some form of mutton — perhaps the shepherd’s lost ewes — and a little smoking was all the cooking it had got. I strove to eat, but the tasteless morsels52 choked me. Then they set drink before me in a curious cup, which I seized on eagerly, for my mouth was dry with thirst. The vessel53 was of gold, rudely formed, but of the pure metal, and a coarse design in circles ran round the middle. This surprised me enough, but a greater wonder awaited me. The liquor was not water, as I had guessed, but a sort of sweet ale, a miracle of flavour. The taste was curious, but somehow familiar; it was like no wine I had ever drunk, and yet I had known that flavour all my life. I sniffed54 at the brim, and there rose a faint fragrance55 of thyme and heather honey and the sweet things of the moorland. I almost dropped the thing in my surprise; for here in this rude place I had stumbled upon that lost delicacy56 of the North, the heather ale.
For a second I was entranced with my discovery, and then the wonder of the cup claimed my attention. Was it a mere relic57 of pillage58, or had this folk some hidden mine of the precious metal? Gold had once been common in these hills. There were the traces of mines on Cairnsmore; shepherds had found it in the gravel59 of the Gled Water; and the name of a house at the head of the Clachlands meant the ‘Home of Gold.’
Once more I began my questions, and they answered them willingly. There and then I heard that secret for which many had died in old time, the secret of the heather ale. They told of the gold in the hills, of corries where the sand gleamed and abysses where the rocks were veined. All this they told me, freely, without a scruple60. And then, like a clap, came the awful thought that this, too, spelled death. These were secrets which this race aforetime had guarded with their lives; they told them generously to me because there was no fear of betrayal. I should go no more out from this place.
The thought put me into a new sweat of terror — not at death, mind you, but at the unknown horrors which might precede the final suffering. I lay silent, and after binding61 my hands they began to leave me and go off to other parts of the cave. I dozed62 in the horrible half-swoon of fear, conscious only of my shaking limbs, and the great dull glow of the fire in the centre. Then I became calmer. After all, they had treated me with tolerable kindness: I had spoken their language, which few of their victims could have done for many a century; it might be that I found favour in their eyes. For a little I comforted myself with this delusion63, till I caught sight of a wooden box in a corner. It was of modern make, one such as grocers use to pack provisions in. It had some address nailed on it, and an aimless curiosity compelled me to creep thither64 and read it. A torn and weather-stained scrap65 of paper, with the nails at the corner rusty66 with age; but something of the address might still be made out. Amid the stains my feverish39 eyes read, ‘To Mr. M— Carrickfey, by Allerfoot Station.’
The ruined cottage in the hollow of the waste with the single gnarled apple-tree was before me in a twinkling. I remembered the shepherd’s shrinking from the place and the name, and his wild eyes when he told me of the thing that had happened there. I seemed to see the old man in his moorland cottage, thinking no evil; the sudden entry of the nameless things; and then the eyes glazed67 in unspeakable terror. I felt my lips dry and burning. Above me was the vault68 of rock; in the distance I saw the fire-glow and the shadows of shapes moving around it. My fright was too great for inaction, so I crept from the couch, and silently, stealthily, with tottering69 steps and bursting heart, I began to reconnoitre.
But I was still bound, my arms tightly, my legs more loosely, but yet firm enough to hinder flight. I could not get my hands at my leg-straps, still less could I undo70 the manacles. I rolled on the floor, seeking some sharp edge of rock, but all had been worn smooth by the use of centuries. Then suddenly an idea came upon me like an inspiration. The sounds from the fire seemed to have ceased, and I could hear them repeated from another and more distant part of the cave. The Folk had left their orgy round the blaze, and at the end of the long tunnel I saw its glow fall unimpeded upon the floor. Once there, I might burn off my fetters71 and be free to turn my thoughts to escape.
I crawled a little way with much labour. Then suddenly I came abreast72 an opening in the wall, through which a path went. It was a long straight rock-cutting, and at the end I saw a gleam of pale light. It must be the open air; the way of escape was prepared for me; and with a prayer I made what speed I could towards the fire.
I rolled on the verge73, but the fuel was peat, and the warm ashes would not burn the cords. In desperation I went farther, and my clothes began to singe74, while my face ached beyond endurance. But yet I got no nearer my object. The strips of hide warped75 and cracked, but did not burn. Then in a last effort I thrust my wrists bodily into the glow and held them there. In an instant I drew them out with a groan76 of pain, scarred and sore, but to my joy with the band snapped in one place. Weak as I was, it was now easy to free myself, and then came the untying77 of my legs. My hands trembled, my eyes were dazed with hurry, and I was longer over the job than need have been. But at length I had loosed my cramped78 knees and stood on my feet, a free man once more.
I kicked off my boots, and fled noiselessly down the passage to the tunnel mouth. Apparently79 it was close on evening, for the white light had faded to a pale yellow. But it was daylight, and that was all I sought, and I ran for it as eagerly as ever runner ran to a goal. I came out on a rock-shelf, beneath which a moraine of boulders80 fell away in a chasm81 to a dark loch. It was all but night, but I could see the gnarled and fortressed rocks rise in ramparts above, and below the unknown screes and cliffs which make the side of the Muneraw a place only for foxes and the fowls82 of the air.
The first taste of liberty is an intoxication83, and assuredly I was mad when I leaped down among the boulders. Happily at the top of the gully the stones were large and stable, else the noise would certainly have discovered me. Down I went, slipping, praying, my charred84 wrists aching, and my stockinged feet wet with blood. Soon I was in the jaws85 of the cleft, and a pale star rose before me. I have always been timid in the face of great rocks, and now, had not an awful terror been dogging my footsteps, no power on earth could have driven me to that descent. Soon I left the boulders behind, and came to long spouts86 of little stones, which moved with me till the hillside seemed sinking under my feet. Sometimes I was face downwards88, once and again I must have fallen for yards. Had there been a cliff at the foot, I should have gone over it without resistance; but by the providence89 of God the spout87 ended in a long curve into the heather of the bog.
When I found my feet once more on soft boggy90 earth, my strength was renewed within me. A great hope of escape sprang up in my heart. For a second I looked back. There was a great line of shingle91 with the cliffs beyond, and above all the unknown blackness of the cleft. There lay my terror, and I set off running across the bog for dear life. My mind was clear enough to know my road. If I held round the loch in front I should come to a burn which fed the Farawa stream, on whose banks stood the shepherd’s cottage. The loch could not be far; once at the Farawa I would have the light of the shieling clear before me.
Suddenly I heard behind me, as if coming from the hillside, the patter of feet. It was the sound which white hares make in the winter-time on a noiseless frosty day as they patter over the snow. I have heard the same soft noise from a herd51 of deer when they changed their pastures. Strange that so kindly92 a sound should put the very fear of death in my heart. I ran madly, blindly, yet thinking shrewdly. The loch was before me. Somewhere I had read or heard, I do not know where, that the brutish aboriginal93 races of the North could not swim. I myself swam powerfully; could I but cross the loch I should save two miles of a desperate country.
There was no time to lose, for the patter was coming nearer, and I was almost at the loch’s edge. I tore off my coat and rushed in. The bottom was mossy, and I had to struggle far before I found any depth. Something plashed in the water before me, and then something else a little behind. The thought that I was a mark for unknown missiles made me crazy with fright, and I struck fiercely out for the other shore. A gleam of moonlight was on the water at the burn’s exit, and thither I guided myself. I found the thing difficult enough in itself, for my hands ached, and I was numb2 with my bonds. But my fancy raised a thousand phantoms95 to vex96 me. Swimming in that black bog water, pursued by those nameless things, I seemed to be in a world of horror far removed from the kindly world of men. My strength seemed inexhaustible from my terror. Monsters at the bottom of the water seemed to bite at my feet, and the pain of my wrists made me believe that the loch was boiling hot, and that I was in some hellish place of torment97.
I came out on a spit of gravel above the burn mouth, and set off down the ravine of the burn. It was a strait place, strewn with rocks; but now and then the hill turf came in stretches, and eased my wounded feet. Soon the fall became more abrupt98, and I was slippingdown a hillside, with the water on my left making great cascades99 in the granite100. And then I was out in the wider vale where the Farawa water flowed among links of moss94.
Far in front, a speck101 in the blue darkness shone the light of the cottage. I panted forward, my breath coming in gasps102 and my back shot with fiery103 pains. Happily the land was easier for the feet as long as I kept on the skirts of the bog. My ears were sharp as a wild beast’s with fear, as I listened for the noise of pursuit. Nothing came but the rustle104 of the gentlest hill-wind and the chatter105 of the falling streams.
Then suddenly the light began to waver and move athwart the window. I knew what it meant. In a minute or two the household at the cottage would retire to rest, and the lamp would be put out. True, I might find the place in the dark, for there was a moon of sorts and the road was not desperate. But somehow in that hour the lamplight gave a promise of safety which I clung to despairingly.
And then the last straw was added to my misery106. Behind me came the pad of feet, the pat-patter, soft, eerie107, incredibly swift. I choked with fear, and flung myself forward in a last effort. I give my word it was sheer mechanical shrinking that drove me on. God knows I would have lain down to die in the heather, had the things behind me been a common terror of life.
I ran as man never ran before, leaping hags, scrambling108 through green well-heads, straining towards the fast-dying light. A quarter of a mile and the patter sounded nearer. Soon I was not two hundred yards off, and the noise seemed almost at my elbow. The light went out, and the black mass of the cottage loomed109 in the dark.
Then, before I knew, I was at the door, battering110 it wearily and yelling for help. I heard steps within and a hand on the bolt. Then something shot past me with lightning force and buried itself in the wood. The dreadful hands were almost at my throat, when the door was opened and I stumbled in, hearing with a gulp111 of joy the key turn and the bar fall behind me.
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1
numbly
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| adv.失去知觉，麻木 | |
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numb
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| adj.麻木的，失去感觉的；v.使麻木 | |
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Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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spate
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| n.泛滥，洪水，突然的一阵 | |
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glistened
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| v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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cleft
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| n.裂缝；adj.裂开的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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11
flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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blurred
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| v.（使）变模糊( blur的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）难以区分；模模糊糊；迷离 | |
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23
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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badger
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| v.一再烦扰，一再要求，纠缠 | |
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stump
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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bog
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| n.沼泽；室...陷入泥淖 | |
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deference
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| n.尊重，顺从；敬意 | |
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squatted
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的过去式和过去分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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akin
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| adj.同族的，类似的 | |
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lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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impure
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| adj.不纯净的，不洁的；不道德的，下流的 | |
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precipitated
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| v.（突如其来地）使发生( precipitate的过去式和过去分词 )；促成；猛然摔下；使沉淀 | |
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invaders
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| 入侵者，侵略者，侵入物( invader的名词复数 ) | |
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hatreds
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| n.仇恨，憎恶( hatred的名词复数 )；厌恶的事 | |
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morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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38
riddles
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| n.谜（语）( riddle的名词复数 )；猜不透的难题，难解之谜 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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40
feverishly
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| adv. 兴奋地 | |
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41
morose
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| adj.脾气坏的，不高兴的 | |
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42
lust
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| n.性(淫)欲；渴(欲)望；vi.对…有强烈的欲望 | |
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43
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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44
plunder
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| vt.劫掠财物，掠夺；n.劫掠物，赃物；劫掠 | |
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45
bestial
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| adj.残忍的；野蛮的 | |
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46
exuberance
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| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
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47
slaying
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| 杀戮。 | |
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48
quailed
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| 害怕，发抖，畏缩( quail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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49
molested
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| v.骚扰( molest的过去式和过去分词 )；干扰；调戏；猥亵 | |
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50
jabber
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| v.快而不清楚地说；n.吱吱喳喳 | |
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51
herd
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| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
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52
morsels
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| n.一口( morsel的名词复数 )；（尤指食物）小块，碎屑 | |
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53
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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54
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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55
fragrance
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| n.芬芳，香味，香气 | |
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56
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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57
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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58
pillage
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| v.抢劫；掠夺；n.抢劫，掠夺；掠夺物 | |
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59
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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60
scruple
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| n./v.顾忌，迟疑 | |
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61
binding
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| 有约束力的，有效的，应遵守的 | |
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62
dozed
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| v.打盹儿，打瞌睡( doze的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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delusion
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| n.谬见，欺骗，幻觉，迷惑 | |
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64
thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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65
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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67
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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68
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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69
tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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70
undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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72
abreast
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| adv.并排地；跟上(时代)的步伐，与…并进地 | |
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verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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singe
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| v.(轻微地)烧焦；烫焦；烤焦 | |
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warped
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| adj.反常的；乖戾的；（变）弯曲的；变形的v.弄弯，变歪( warp的过去式和过去分词 )；使（行为等）不合情理，使乖戾， | |
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76
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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untying
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| untie的现在分词 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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80
boulders
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| n.卵石( boulder的名词复数 )；巨砾；（受水或天气侵蚀而成的）巨石；漂砾 | |
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81
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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84
charred
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| v.把…烧成炭( char的过去式)；烧焦 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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spouts
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| n.管口( spout的名词复数 )；（喷出的）水柱；（容器的）嘴；在困难中v.（指液体）喷出( spout的第三人称单数 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
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87
spout
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| v.喷出，涌出；滔滔不绝地讲；n.喷管；水柱 | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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providence
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| n.深谋远虑，天道，天意；远见；节约；上帝 | |
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boggy
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| adj.沼泽多的 | |
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shingle
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| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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aboriginal
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| adj.（指动植物）土生的，原产地的，土著的 | |
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moss
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| n.苔，藓，地衣 | |
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phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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vex
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| vt.使烦恼，使苦恼 | |
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torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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cascades
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| 倾泻( cascade的名词复数 )； 小瀑布（尤指一连串瀑布中的一支）； 瀑布状物； 倾泻（或涌出）的东西 | |
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100
granite
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| adj.花岗岩，花岗石 | |
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101
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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102
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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103
fiery
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| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
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104
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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105
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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106
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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107
eerie
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| adj.怪诞的；奇异的；可怕的；胆怯的 | |
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108
scrambling
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的现在分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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109
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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110
battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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111
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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