South Mountain is the last concentration of Apparitions,— as you might say, Shape-'Morphers, and Soul-Snatchers, besides plain "Ghosts." Beyond lies Wilderness1, where quite another Presence reigns2, undiffer-entiate,— Thatwhichever precedeth Ghostliness....
Dixon takes to wearing a coonskin cap. Mason is alarm'd,— "That something has happen'd to your hair," is what he says aloud, whilst thinking, that Dixon has become a Werewolf, or even worse,— some New World Creature without a name, at home among the illimitable possibil?ities of Evil in this Forest,...some Manifestation3 to daylight denied— Meanwhile Dixon, sensing in his partner but a lower order of Snakes-and-Bears Jumpiness, in Fun begins appearing at the Tent-opening with the tail of the Hat pull'd round in front of his face, screaming in a Pit?man's Cant4 intelligible5 but to himself. Mason's reactions are all he is hoping for, and more. The Quill6 goes into a panicky skate off the page,— Mason looks frantically7 about for a weapon. Dixon quickly reverses the bushy Tail.
"Surprize!"
"Not funny."
"Don't like me Shappo? Well Ah hadn't done Punch's Voice yet...?" At Mason's blank look, "Tha mean, tha've never done this with thy Wig8? The children love it."
"Fascinating. Apparently9 I was never allow'd the Opportunity,— my older son,— William,— having learn'd quite soon to remove mine from my head, and convert it into a toy Cudgel, with which, charmingly of course, he would pretend to smash his baby brother's head in. The pow?der always made him sneeze, altho' this did not affect the sincerity10 of his Assault."
But the word always has slipp'd in, fatal to any attempt at Wit, or even lightness of tone, and may be Mason's way of asking for sympathy, fully11 as supplicatory12 as a tremor13 in the voice, a fugitive14 tear. He has blunder'd on into a Remark about Hats, cock'd and not.
"Sir?" Dixon giving Beef.
"Surely, Sir, I meant no disrespect to the Quakers, among whom I number,—
" Tis the dismissive Use of Metonymy, Sir. We are particularly earnest upon the Topick of Hats, having invested in them more than insurance against the Rain.— Our history as a Sect15 having begun with a Hat that remain'd upon its Head,— and mercifully the Head upon its Body,—
Later, Mason seeks revenge. Dixon having drifted into a hypnagogic passage in which, amid a profligacy16 of stars rushing by, he is traversing straight upward, Zenithward,— "Eeh! Eeh!" He is awake and scream?ing. Mason is ringing a small iron Bell rapidly in front of his Nose. "Indi?ans? Americans? Where's my Rifle? Whah'?"
' 'Tis Capella," smirks17 Mason, "about to culminate18, and tho' I do pre?fer the Clock myself, as it is your, ye might say, Work-Station, reluctantly must I yield it to you, I suppose, and go clap me Eye to the old Snout once again."
"I wasn't asleep...?"
" 'Fair Blapsia, I am thine'? Pray you Sir, a moment's Mercy."
"Who said than'... ? Ah didn't say thah'... ?"
Mason's look is pois'd between Pity and Annoyance19.
"I've been awake. I remember when Farlow and Boggs came by...? with their Voucher20 Situation... ? a lively whim-wham for fair."
"Boggs and Farlow didn't,— Hum, that is to say,—
"Ha! Happen 'twas thee asleep then...? I puzzl'd that they spoke21 so quietly."
"I was awake, all the time, they were never here, you must have dream'd it.”
"Oh, tha look'd awake, but Ah mind thy gift of sleeping with thine Eyes open wide."
"I can't help that, my father did it too, it's given me Nightmares for Years. I couldn't bear to look at it,— how can you? Doesn't it trouble you?"
"Me? Why, no. Why should it? Some individual pretending to stare at me, whilst his Soul's off God knows where, having Adventures imper?fectly recall'd,— why should any of that trouble me, particularly the Question of what, in thy Absence, is doing the Staring for thee? What caretaker, what Verger of the Temple of the Self... ? Eeh!"
"Yes. And, and the Stare you speak of,— do my Eyes, in a sense, roll upward into blind white Ovoids, and are your Dreams not invaded by that sinister22 unseeing Gaze, ever-charg'd with some imminent23 Act you must upon no account remain there to witness,—
"Aye!" screams Dixon, " - aye, they're blank as boil'd Eggs, and worse,— for Irisless and unpupil'd yet do they go on squinting24 at me, as if,- "
"Yes, yes?"
"Eeh, never mind."
"No, pray you, I'm interested, very interested indeed." Wind shoves against the Tent. Rainwater somewhere drips into a kettle. The flames of the Tallow Dips are ever uncertain. From the Forest now proceed Sounds, real ones, that neither Surveyor has heard before, and that each is too embarrass'd to mention to the other. Dixon, having the finer toler?ance for mysterious intrusion, breaks first. "All right, I know you hear it too. It's rhythmic25, and high-pitch'd, aye? I say it's Indian Drums, and they're talking about huz...?"
"And I say, 'tis a Dog," Mason somber26. "A particular Dog, with a syn?copated Bark— Oh yes, a Dog well known and much fear'd in this Region,— withal a Dog...."
"Eeh, wait then, wheer's my Flask27, if we're having a Toast to the Ani?mal. ..?" Outside something is creeping by. "Hold!" Dixon seizing a Pis?tol and diving out the tent-flap, into the rain with a smoothness Mason has rarely observ'd. There is some jingling28 and shuffling29. "It's the young McClean!" cries Dixon.
"Felicitude," mutters Mason. "What next? Invite him in for a Drink, I suppose."
In pokes30 Dixon's head, considerably31 wetter. "Nathe's of your Mind,— thinks it's a Dog. I still say it's a Drum, though perhaps of unconven?tional Design,— say, how much of that Stuff in the Bottles is to hand?" They now are join'd by other crew members who have heard, and are unhappy with, the pulsing, uncertainly Distant Noise. Wearily Mason pulls on Oil-cloths, tugs32 his Service-Grade Beaver33 over his Nob, and emerges to mill about as perplex'd as the rest, hoping no one will look to him for Leadership. Soon the place is so full of Crew that they decide to move on into the Mess tent, where already Mr. Barnes and his Band have been conversing34 separately.
"Gents, we are all agreed," the Overseer greets them, " 'tis the," whis?pering for the first time since they've known him, "Black Dog."
"Probably out seeking to relieve himself upon one or more of his per?sonal Trees," adds Matt Marine35, "which will no longer be there, having been chopp'd down for our Visto. The B.D. will likely be very put out at this, for he does like his personal Trees, ye see."
"Shall he retaliate36?" wonders Mason. "What Measures should we be taking?"
"Eeh, Mason...?"
"May I suggest that this is all but a form of Joint37 Mirage," offers the Revd, "something very like it having been reported in the Philosophical38 Transactions not long ago, as you may recall?"
Dixon's "Why, aye" and Mason's "I do not" are spoken simultane?ously. The Surveyors glare at each other. "Someone wrote in to the R.S. about this Black Dog?" inquires Mason.
"Careful," warns Mr. Barnes, "you're not suppos'd to use any of Its names, really."
"Really? 'The Black Dog'? Can't say, The Black— ' "
"Sh-shh! Tis one of the Things That Are Never Said."
"Oh?" Dixon curious. "And the others are...?"
"An extended List, Sir."
"And of course tha'd rather not recite it aloud...? is it not yet enough, the Catholick axmen blessing39 their Bits each morning with holy water,— the Astrologites newly reluctant to work when the Moon
is void of Course,— the Presbyterians ever brewing40 Potions, and scry?ing the entrails of Toads,— and now a List of Things That May Not Be Said?"
"Ahrr,— " Mason a-squint, "finely set these Days? Am I not given to understand that no Geordie can ever quite bring himself to pronounce the name of—
"Don't say it,— "
- of a certain farm animal? noted41 for its wallowing, and, and oinking,—
"Be a Gent, Mason, I concede the point."
"And you promise not to say, 'The Black D— ' ehhp,— that is,—
"Folk out here advise," says Dixon, "that all else failing, the Names most likely to matter, spoken aloud, are those of the Holy Trinity,— accompanied by a Cross, drawn42 in the air at the same time."
"Same time as what? as the Dog is leaping for my Throat?"
"Eeh,— disputes with Phantom43 Dogs are not in my Line, Mason. Dogs love me, I'm a Dog Person."
"Are you really."
"All my Life."
"So,— if I threw a Stick, and cried Fetch, you would actually run, and,— " Mason places a Finger crosswise between his teeth, and nods, inquiringly.
"No, no, not that kind of Dog Person.— Though happen I did see something like, once at Darlington Fair...?"
"Hark ye," calls Moses Barnes, "— Gentlemen. Has the Wind only shifted, or has this damn'd Howling come nearer?"
All attend the Night outside the canvas walls. "Ain't it more likely to be no Dog, but Indians pretending to be a Dog?" Mr. Farlow inquires calmly, thereby44 throwing the Company into a Panick. Countrymen set their fur hats mistakenly upon the Heads of others, or grab the wrong Rifle whilst it is yet in its Owner's Hands. Powder is spill'd, strewn, left by the Fire. Ev'ryone is shouting at once.
"Leadership," Mason mumbling45 to himself. Turning to Dixon, "One of us,— "
"Me. As usual." Pulling his Hat down over his Ears, he prepares to exit.
"Mr. Dixon is going out to have a look," Mason announces, quite chirpy. "If it is a Dog, he'll know what to do."
"What if it's Indians?"
"I'll bite them...?" Dixon lifts the Flap, clears his Sensorium, and steps outside. There is a long Silence. Mason has drifted into a curious daydream46 about Philadelphia, where he has just been elected Dog-Catcher, on the basis of his adventures upon South Mountain, when Dixon comes back.
"Wasn't the Creature yese spoke of. It was the Glowing Indian."
"What, the Glowing Indian of South Mountain? Hasn't been seen for years."
"Perhaps it was something else...?" Dixon accepts a Pewter Mug of Maize-Whiskey. "What would tha call a very large Native American, with a net output of light, comparable to that of a Forge?"
"Dunno.. .Glowing Indian?"
"Just so,— Hatchet47 and Musket-Barrel and Knife-Blades, all a-glow, Steam billowing up when he stepp'd in the Creek48...?"
Mason has no command of his Tongue. He keeps trying to say, "Too far, Dixon, you never know where the Crease49 of Credulity's been set." He is disappointed at not having seen it, whatever it is,— believing it a Spir?itual Demonstration50, that Dixon almost certainly has fail'd to appreciate. Dixon, for his part, the further West they chain, finds himself with a need for some new Jostling daily to his Sensorium, and tonight's Glowing Indian, in this numbing51 torrent52 of American Stimuli53, seems just the Ticket, tho' he wouldn't have minded some whim-wham with the Black Dog. "Wading54 down toward Antietam, last I saw. Seem'd a pleasant enough Lad. Not much to say. Too tall, of course—"
Over South Mountain, among the Springs that fall to Antietam Creek, on September 21st, they pause at 96 Miles, 3 Chains, near the House of Mr. Staphel Shockey, who tells them of a remarkable55 Cavern56 beneath the Earth, about six miles south of the Line. In the winter, English Church services are held in it. Mason's Hat begins to move, as from some Agita?tion beneath it. Accordingly, the next day, Sunday, they pay a visit, in company with Mr. Shockey and his Children, whilst Mrs. Shockey
remains at home with a thousand Chores that Sunday does not release her from.
The entrance is an arch about 6 yards in length and four feet in height, when immediately there opens a room 45 yards in length, 40 in breadth and 7 or 8 in height. (Not one pillar to support nature's arch)...On the Sidewalls are drawn by the Pencil of Time, with the tears of the Rocks: The imitation of Organ, Pillar, Columns and Monuments of a Temple; which, with the glimmer57?ing faint light; makes the whole an awful, solemn appearance: Striking its Visitants with a strong and melancholy58 reflection: that such is the abodes59 of the Dead: thy inevitable60 doom61, 0 stranger; soon to be numbered as one of them.
- So it reads in the Field-Book."
"They handed that in?" Ethelmer in surprise.
"Part of the official record," Uncle Ives's Eyebrows62 descending63.
"However, where Mason saw a Gothick Interior, Dixon saw 'pon ev'ry Surface, ancient Inscriptions64, Glyphs unreadable,— Ogham, possibly."
Mr. Shockey has little to add. "The Indians, it seems like they stay'd away from here,— bad Spirits or something. So if it's writing, it'd have to be older 'n them."
"Could've been Welsh Indians," offers one of his Sons. "Mov'd on West long before our Time, said to be cross'd beyond the Illinois. You'll be seeing Captain Shelby soon, he knows more."
Mason is looking about, precisely65 like someone planning to furnish a room. "Nor Summer's Heat," he will whisper later that Night, unable to quit the Fire "nor Winter's Freeze, need bother us, snug66 in the Earth...those Ceilings! high as Heaven...."
Dixon is not quite so entertain'd. The Cave oppresses him. He has mentally measur'd it, as Surveyors do, and is trying to imagine what form of Life might be calling something as spacious67 as this Home. And what might become of the Anglican Population out here, should the Dweller68 show up unexpectedly one Sunday, during the Service.
All the way back to the Visto, Mason is seiz'd by Monology. "Text,— he cries, and more than once, "it is Text,— and we are its readers, and its Pages are the Days turning. Unscrolling, as a Pilgrim's Itinerary69 map
in ancient Days. And this is the Chapter call'd 'The Subterranean70 Cathe?dral, or, The Lesson Grasp'd.' You must make sure I do not attempt to return. Didn't you feel anything? You people, with your second sight and Eldritch Powers,— why I've seen betterr at Painswick Fairr."
"Eeh, a Lad brings in a Well or two, and right away 'tis Wizard me this, Wizard me thah'... ?"
"Can you stretch me a bit o' Chain today, do ye guess?" "Thank thee for asking,— I'd been planning to crowd thee...?" They neck-rein their Horses in opposite directions, till they're as far apart upon the Road as they can manage, and continue their return from the World beneath the World, to the Line beneath the Stars.
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wilderness
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| n.杳无人烟的一片陆地、水等，荒漠 | |
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reigns
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| n.君主的统治( reign的名词复数 )；君主统治时期；任期；当政期 | |
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manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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cant
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| n.斜穿，黑话，猛扔 | |
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intelligible
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| adj.可理解的，明白易懂的，清楚的 | |
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quill
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| n.羽毛管；v.给（织物或衣服）作皱褶 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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supplicatory
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| adj.恳求的，祈愿的 | |
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tremor
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| n.震动，颤动，战栗，兴奋，地震 | |
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fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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sect
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| n.派别，宗教，学派，派系 | |
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profligacy
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| n.放荡，不检点，肆意挥霍 | |
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smirks
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| n.傻笑，得意的笑( smirk的名词复数 )v.傻笑( smirk的第三人称单数 ) | |
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culminate
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| v.到绝顶，达于极点，达到高潮 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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voucher
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| n.收据；传票；凭单，凭证 | |
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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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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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squinting
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| 斜视( squint的现在分词 )； 眯着眼睛； 瞟； 从小孔或缝隙里看 | |
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rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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somber
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| adj.昏暗的，阴天的，阴森的，忧郁的 | |
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flask
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| n.瓶，火药筒，砂箱 | |
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jingling
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| 叮当声 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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pokes
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| v.伸出( poke的第三人称单数 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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tugs
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| n.猛拉( tug的名词复数 )；猛拖；拖船v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的第三人称单数 ) | |
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beaver
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| n.海狸，河狸 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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retaliate
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| v.报复，反击 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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brewing
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| n. 酿造, 一次酿造的量 动词brew的现在分词形式 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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phantom
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| n.幻影，虚位，幽灵；adj.错觉的，幻影的，幽灵的 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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daydream
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| v.做白日梦，幻想 | |
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hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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numbing
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| adj.使麻木的，使失去感觉的v.使麻木，使麻痹( numb的现在分词 ) | |
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torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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stimuli
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| n.刺激（物） | |
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wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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cavern
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| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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abodes
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| 住所( abode的名词复数 )； 公寓； （在某地的）暂住； 逗留 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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inscriptions
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| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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spacious
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| adj.广阔的，宽敞的 | |
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68
dweller
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| n.居住者，住客 | |
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69
itinerary
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| n.行程表，旅行路线；旅行计划 | |
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70
subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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