the disturbance moving in the most inexplicable way. I can hardly describe it.
It seemed as if stirred by a streak of wind, which not only bent it, but pressed
it down— crushed it so that it did not rise, and this movement was slowly
prolonging itself directly toward us, "Nothing that I had ever seen had affected
me so strangely as this unfamiliar and unaccountable phenomenon, yet I am unable
to recall any sense of fear. I remember— and tell it here because, singularly
enough, I recollected it then— that once, in looking carelessly out of an open
window, I momentarily mistook a small tree close at hand for one of a group of
larger trees at a little distance away. It looked the same size as the others,
but, being more distinctly and sharply defined in mass and detail, seemed out of
harmony with them. It was a mere falsification of the law of aerial perspective,
but it startled, almost terrified me. We so rely upon the orderly operation of
familiar natural laws that any seeming suspension of them is noted as a menace
to our safety, a warning of unthinkable calamity. So now the apparently
causeless movement of the herbage, and the slow, undeviating approach of the
line of disturbance were distinctly disquieting. My companion appeared actually
frightened, and I could hardly credit my senses when I saw him suddenly throw
his gun to his shoulders and fire both barrels at the agitated grass! Before the
smoke of the discharge had cleared away I heard a loud savage cry— a scream like
that of a wild animal— and, flinging his gun upon the ground, Morgan sprang away
and ran swiftly from the spot. At the same instant I was thrown violently to the
ground by the impact of something unseen in the smoke— some soft, heavy
substance that seemed thrown against me with great force.
"Before I could get upon my feet and recover my gun, which seemed to have been
struck from my hands, I heard Morgan crying out as if in mortal agony, and
mingling with his cries were such hoarse, savage sounds as one hears from
fighting dogs. Inexpressibly terrified, I struggled to my feet and looked in the
direction of Morgan's retreat; and may heaven in mercy spare me from another
sight like that! At a distance of less than thirty yards was my friend, down
upon one knee, his head thrown back at a frightful angle, hatless, his long hair
in disorder and his whole body in violent movement from side to side, backward
and forward. His right arm was lifted and seemed to lack the hand— at least, I
could see none. The other arm was invisible. At times, as my memory now reports
this extraordinary scene, I could discern but a part of his body; it was as if
he had been partly blotted out— I can not otherwise express it— then a shifting
of his position would bring it all into view again.
"All this must have occurred within a few seconds, yet in that time Morgan
assumed all the postures of a determined wrestler vanquished by superior weight
and strength. I saw nothing but him, and him not always distinctly. During the
entire incident his shouts and curses were heard, as if through an enveloping
uproar of such sounds of rage and fury as I had never heard from the throat of
man or brute!
"For a moment only I stood irresolute, then, throwing down my gun, I ran forward
to my friend's assistance. I had a vague belief that he was suffering from a fit
or some form of convulsion. Before I could reach his side he was down and quiet.
All sounds had ceased, but, with a feeling of such terror as even these awful
events had not inspired, I now saw the same mysterious movement of the wild oats
prolonging itself from the trampled area about the prostrate man toward the edge
of a wood. It was only when it had reached the wood that I was able to withdraw
my eyes and look at my companion. He was dead."
III
The coroner rose from his seat and stood beside the dead man. Lifting an edge of
the sheet he pulled it away, exposing the entire body, altogether naked and
showing in the candle light a clay-like yellow. It had, however, broad
maculations of bluish- black, obviously caused by extravasated blood from
contusions. The chest and sides looked as if they had been beaten with a
bludgeon. There were dreadful lacerations; the skin was torn in strips and
shreds.
The coroner moved round to the end of the table and undid a silk handkerchief,
which had been passed under the chin and knotted on the top of the head. When
the handkerchief was drawn away it exposed what had been the throat. Some of the
jurors who had risen to get a better view repented their curiosity, and turned
away their faces. Witness Harker went to the open window and leaned out across
the sill, faint and sick. Dropping the handkerchief upon the dead man's neck,
the coroner stepped to an angle of the room, and from a pile of clothing
produced one garment after another, each of which he held up a moment for
inspection. All were torn, and stiff with blood. The jurors did not make a
closer inspection. They seemed rather uninterested. They had, in truth, seen all
this before; the only thing that was new to them being Harker's testimony.
"Gentlemen," the coroner said, "we have no more evidence, I think. Your duty has
been already explained to you; if there is nothing you wish to ask you may go
outside and consider your verdict."
The foreman rose— a tall, bearded man of sixty, coarsely clad.
"I should like to ask one question, Mr. Coroner," he said. "What asylum did this
yer last witness escape from?"
"Mr. Harker," said the coroner, gravely and tranquilly, "from what asylum did
you last escape?"
Harker flushed crimson again, but said nothing, and the seven jurors rose and
solemnly filed out of the cabin.
"If you have done insulting me, sir," said Harker, as soon as he and the officer
were left alone with the dead man, "I suppose I am at liberty to go?"
"Yes,"
Harker started to leave, but paused, with his hand on the door latch. The habit
of his profession was strong in him— stronger than his sense of personal
dignity. He turned about and said:
"The book that you have there— I recognize it as Morgan's diary. You seemed
greatly interested in it; you read in it while I was testifying. May I see it?
The public would like—"
"The book will cut no figure in this matter," replied the official, slipping it
into his coat pocket; "all the entries in it were made before the writer's
death."
As Harker passed out of the house the jury reentered and stood about the table,
on which the now covered corpse showed under the sheet with sharp definition.
The foreman seated himself near the candle, produced from his breast pocket a
pencil and scrap of paper, and wrote rather laboriously the following verdict,
which with various degrees of effort all signed:
"We, the jury, do find that the remains come to their death at the hands of a
mountain lion, but some of us thinks, all the same, they had fits."
IV
In the diary of the late Hugh Morgan are certain interesting entries having,
possibly, a scientific value as suggestions. At the inquest upon his body the
book was not put in evidence; possibly the coroner thought it not worth while to
confuse the jury. The date of the first of the entries mentioned can not be