XVI
AS IN DAYS OF OLD
"Rusty! You lazy coon! Get on that horse of yours and hike along to thecastle. See--the moon is helping us!"
"Yassir. I was jest finishin' another hunk of po'k-chops dat I forgotan' put in my pocket. Won't you have a bite?"
"No. I want to eat up something worse than pork to-night," and Jarvisswung into the saddle with the lithe skill acquired from childhood dayson the backs of Blue-Grass thoroughbreds.
"What was dat gun-play, Marse Warren?" asked Rusty, after he hadcalculated that they had ridden a respectful distance for inquiries.Rusty had a certain inherited pride!
Jarvis laughed, and the dull glow of his cigarette tip was discernible.
"Oh, Rusty, why worry over history? Leave that sort of thing to these'spigotties'--that's all they have to think about over here. It wasjust a question of being 'pinked' or 'pinking' a certain gentleman whowas working beyond union hours."
"Huh!" snorted Rusty. "I'll bet de razor I has in my jeans dat he wasmoh red dan pink when you-all got finished wid dat cannon o' yourn,Marse Warren. It runs in de fambly ter shoot straight!"
"Well, Rusty, let's ride straight for a while. We must go up this roadto the turn."
They passed dark cottages, and finally reached the fateful angle of theroad. Rusty groaned apprehensively.
"Say, Marse Warren, I wouldn't mind dis all in de meanest moonshinedistrict in Kaintuck, but I don't like for to ride in dis yere foreigndistrict. W'y didn't you-all pick out some place w'ere dey speakshuman talk, instead of dis on-Christian lingo? It don't seem releegiousto me, Marse Warren."
"Rusty, I'm beginning to think you've got a yellow streak in you, withall this talk about objections. You used to have a name for not evenbeing afraid of your weight in wildcats," said Warren.
Rusty nodded, as he clung tightly to the saddle, on the increasinglyrough trail.
"Marse Warren, dat was right. But wildcats is purty heavy, an' you-allcan hit 'em with a shotgun. De trouble wid ghosts is dat dey don'tweigh nuffin!"
"Lookout, Rusty. Here's a brook," and suddenly Jarvis' horse stumbledto its feet, after sliding down a sharp declivity which had been hiddenby the shadows of the big moonlit trees. Rusty was not sofortunate,--he was rolled off despite his efforts, to receive aducking.
Then did his teeth have reason to chatter, as he mounted again tofollow his master up the declivity with dripping clothes.
"Whaffor dey want a crick like dat just below de doors of a castle,Marse Warren?" he complained.
"That's how they got their water supply--I wouldn't be surprised if theold place weren't built right on top of that spring. You know when thisplace was built they didn't have any faucets or taps in these oldplaces.--Except on the heads!"
They mounted higher, ever higher, swinging on their saddlebows theunlighted, antique lanterns. Rusty was unmistakably becoming more andmore nervous.
The road took a sharp turn to the right now, and they clattered overthe wooden bridge of the moat.
They faced the great doorway of the old castle now. In the moonlight itwas an eerie sight indeed. The castle stood on a broad rocky shelf. Acold wind swept over the mountain top, rattling the naked branches nearby the dismal walls.
"Ooooh!"
"What's that?" grunted Rusty in terror.
"Just the wind trying to get out through those barred windows up there,you fool."
"Laws-a-massy, I don't blame it fer gittin' out. I wish I wasn't goin'in."
A lone cloud took this occasion to cover the moon, and the shadowdarkened the outlines of the sinister structure. The castle, so Warrenhad judged on his trip up the hill, must have been built in the periodof the Spanish Moors. Later, perhaps when the Moors had been driven outof the country, two dismal wings, several towers and turrets had beenadded, reminding one of the castles on the Rhine cliffs.
The face of the structure, which Jarvis scanned quickly, was about twohundred feet long and maybe sixty feet high--with two stanch squaretowers at either end.
Thin slits in the walls and two round windows high up appeared to themind of the Kentuckian (humorous in the face of the unknown danger) as"architectural bungholes." On either side of the great arched doorjutted a turret, slit with many smaller openings and possessingcastellated tops.
As they rumbled over the planking of the open drawbridge Rusty'schattering teeth were audible to the rider close at his side, andJarvis muttered angrily, drawing up his horse by the gate which led tothe inner courtyard.
"If you're still too much of a coward to go on, you can ride back,Rusty. This is the first time you've ever failed me in a time ofdanger."
The negro remonstrated nervously.
"I'm not skeered--Marse Warren, I'm jes' gittin' straight hair fer defust time in my life. I'm goin' wid you. I'ze jes' mighty onhappy."
A doorway somewhere swung shut with an iron clang. Rusty's nerves werestronger now. He breathed hard but said nothing.
"They used to hitch their horses here, I suppose," said Jarvis, as heslid from the saddle. The moonlight gave them a better illumination bythis time. He hitched his horse, and Rusty followed his example withtrembling fingers.
"Now, light the lamps. My, but those lamps would sell for a fortune ina Fourth Avenue antique shop!"
Rusty obeyed silently.
Then followed the most horrible experience of Rusty's life, in whatseemed an endless exploration. They trod along weirdly echoingcorridors, through spacious chambers, where ancient tapestries hungfrom the walls, while strange _debris_ lay about amidst the curiouscarved furniture. Everything was covered by a pall of dust. Squealingand scurrying, the shining eyes and ghastly noises betrayed thepresence of myriad rats.
"What can they find to live on?" wondered Warren.
From the high battlements they peered into the valley, and could see afew faint lights in the distant inn. Warren felt sure that one of thoselights was in the room of her Highness.
They explored the bedchambers of the lords and ladies of the castle,the little pigeonholes in which the men-at-arms must have slept.Strange subtle odors met them like an actual presence as they peeredinto dungeons, stone chambers, and horrid vaults.
"I don't even see why a ghost would want ter hang around dis misserableplace, Marse Warren," ventured Rusty, as for the second time theyentered the largest room of all, within the central keep.
"We've been here before, Rusty," replied Warren, sitting down for amoment on an old bench. Rusty looked around with rolling eyes.
Suddenly Jarvis jumped up and sniffed.
"Yes, and someone else has been here before. Do you smell that, Rusty?"
"Marse Warren, I'm so skeered dat I can't smell nuthin',--I can' seenuthin', hear nuthin'--except dem moans and yowls in all dose powerfulbig rooms we was in."
"The room's full of smoke and the smell of oil." Jarvis walked about,to make certain. "Somebody's been carrying a smoky lantern. We'regetting warmer with that ghost."
A dull thud came to their ears, from far within the building. Rustyjumped like a frightened fawn.
"Good godelmity! What's dat?"
Jarvis quietly walked across the room, to peer into the big stonefireplace.
"Oh, Marse Warren, I want to go home!"
Rusty had turned about, and his eyes took in two figures of ancientarmor at the top of the broad half-flight of stairs, on a balcony dais.He sank upon his knees and bobbed his head to the floor in obeisance.
"What's the matter?" and Jarvis whirled about, with revolver drawn. Hisown nerves were beginning to get too taut, with the tension exaggeratedby the superstition and fright of the negro.
"Look! Look! Look at dem big black boogies standin' dere, Marse Warren.See 'em standin' dere?"
Jarvis laughed and put his gun into his side pocket.
"They're the same black things that scared you before, don't youremember?"
"Oh, I'm so skeered, boss, dat I can't remember nuthin' at all."
"Get up on your pins--they're nothing
but old suits of armor, andyou're liable to get some moonlight through you, Rusty, if there'sanother rear-end collision like that. You've been treading on my heelsevery step I take, and when I stop you bump into me."
"But Marse Warren," pleaded the frightened darky, "I'm powerful 'fraidI might lose you!"
"A fine chance," snorted Jarvis, looking about. "Well, Rusty, we'vebeen through this old place pretty thoroughly, and not a sign of asoul--unless they pound or carry a smoky lantern. It's a clew, Rusty,it's a clew. We'll stick right here until we find out. This is the bestroom of the castle, and the ghost may prefer it."
Jarvis crossed to the fireplace again, and striking a match, held itinto the opening. Its flicker indicated a good draught.
"There, Rusty," he said. "It's a good chance for a fire. The chimney'sclear. Now break up that lopsided, rickety table there and make a fire.You won't feel half so scared with a good blaze behind you."
He turned toward the half-flight of stairs, with a studious expressionas he mentally measured the heights and thickness of the walls andceiling.
"I'll scout around a bit, Rusty."
"Don't you do scoutin' outsiden dis room."
Rusty crossed to the fireplace, with the pieces of easily-smashed tablelegs, and began to light the fire.
"This was probably the banquet hall, Rusty."
"Yes, and say, Marse Warren, when we-all goin' ter eat?"
"When we get through with this job." He turned thoughtfully toward thebig windows on the south of the room, and mused aloud: "That's the waythrough the two long rooms to the postern gate. Umm."
"That's where that black thing followed me."
"Yes, and a black thing followed me, walking on my heels every step Itook. I couldn't see where I was stepping."
"That goes to the armory."
"I seen eyes in dere and a cold grimy, green smell in dere. Ain't datwhere dat broad-faced bird flew at me, an' I slipped down de stairs?"
"Don't you know an owl, Rusty? That's all it was."
Jarvis was walking across the room to another door. Rusty was closebehind him, following by habit now.
"I wonder if that door is...."
He did not finish the sentence! His foot had touched a swiveled rock,so delicately balanced that he had noiselessly fallen half through thelarge opening in the rock floor when Rusty caught him by the collar andunder the arm.
_Rusty caught him by the arm_]
"Here, I'm holding on now better, Rusty. Give me your hand." They bothtugged, and he was soon safe, peering into the black opening together.
"That was a close call. Give me that lantern, Rusty!"
He dropped an old pewter cup, left on a side table, down the opening.There was a delayed, faint splash.
"Lord!--water and a long drop. No wonder people disappear in thiscastle. Great Scott! What if her brother fell in there? Rusty, whateverhappens, keep clear of this. Get me a burned stick, and I'll mark across on it, so we can tell--it makes me nervous to see that open mouthof death gaping for us. If you step on this you'll never see Kentuckyagain, for sure."
Rusty obeyed.
"Did you hear that groan, Marse Warren?"
"Groan--that's the wind!... There it is again--it does sound like amoan."
"Ough!" and Rusty's teeth chattered in perfect rhythm with his shakingknees. "Ough!"
"Shut up! Listen ... I guess it's the wind, at that. But this place isgetting on our nerves all right."
Rusty controlled his teeth enough to talk now.
"Marse Warren, dat warn't no wind. Ah hope to die if dat warn't a shore'nuff human groan." He turned and looked toward the big oil portrait ofan ancient Spanish hidalgo over the fireplace. "An' I wants to tell yousomepin else. Has you ever been in church or somew'ere an' all of asuddent a feelin' comes over you dat dere's someone's eyes a-starin' atde back of your haid ... you jest knowed it--until you couldn't standit no longer, an' jest had to turn 'round an' see who it was?"
"Yes, Rusty, I've had that. Why?"
"Dat's jest de way I feel now. Like dem eyes in dat picture wasa-lookin right through me. Like he'd like to step right outen de frame.Or dem two boogie battleship men would like to jump right down on me,"and he pointed toward the two suits of armor on the landing above.
"It's been a good many hundred years since those boys jumped. Butlisten--there's someone running as sure as you're alive, Rusty."
It was unmistakable. The steps came nearer and nearer, and then came arepetition of that dull thud in a distant room.
"I want to go home," moaned Rusty.
Jarvis had drawn his revolver again, and he was standing close to thestairs.
"Great Scott, Rusty! The man with the smoky lantern has been up thesestairs. There are oil drippings, still fresh."
"You-all ain't going up, is you?" pleaded Rusty.
"Not at all. Because this Mr. Ghost or some of his spooky friends areprobably waiting at the top of the stairs with a long gun, and I'm nobook hero."
"Suppose it might be dat dere Mrs. Princess'es brother?"
"Well, he might blow my head off because he doesn't know what I camehere for, and if it's someone else they'd blow it off because they doknow why I'm here. There's somebody trying to scare us, Rusty. They'reprobably watching every move we make.... That's where that poundingcomes from--why don't they shoot?... They're trying to scare us as theydid the poor boobs down in the village."
Rusty crossed toward the fireplace. He picked up an old mallet andchisel from the mantel, which was brighter now from the fire. He criedout in surprise:
"Look yere, Marse Warren. Look yere!"
He handed the tools over to the astounded Jarvis. "I found 'em on datmantelpiece!"
Jarvis ran to the mantelpiece and clambered up on a chair, holding thelantern close to the wall.
"Good boy, Rusty! These are the Ghost's tools, all right. Someone wasworking in this room--but we've beaten him to it.... Mortar on thefloor ... mortar on the mantle!... Look here at these stones. That'swhere he was working, Rusty, and we've beaten him to it."
He stopped, and both of them turned simultaneously to look at the bigpicture of the historical Spaniard. Rusty had drawn his own revolver,with Jarvis doing the same by a curious instinct.
"Did you feel dat, too, Marse Warren?" asked the frightened negro.
Jarvis said nothing. He went to the picture and, lighting a match,passed it all around the frame, examining it, without the discovery ofa suspicious thing. He turned away, then faced it once more as hebacked toward the low balustrade of the steps over which stood one ofthe suits of armor.
"By George, that's weird. You could feel that just as plain...."
Rusty was still looking with fascination at the picture.
"It sure is, Marse Warren, it sure is...." He turned slowly, facingWarren Jarvis. He had just time for one piercing howl--a veritablehigh-pitched scream:
"_My Gawd, look out!_"
The Ghost Breaker: A Novel Based Upon the Play Page 16