"Listen, young man, you'd be a fool to travel on to Platkill on a night like this. It's a stretch of empty country with nothing but jagged boulders and thick woods on both sides of the road."
"My horses are good," Jacob said, "and my buggy is in good repair." He stopped and laughed. "And I'm not afraid of driving through a thick woods at night. My friend is expecting me tonight. He'd be worried if I didn't arrive."
There was another stretch of silence as Jacob ate more of his food.
"Go on, Joe, tell him," one of the men urged.
"Now listen to me, young man," Joe began again. "This is strange country around here. It's wild and untamed -- not like "where I suspect you come from."
"City life can be wild, too," Jacob said with a smile.
"Tell him about Skin-and-Bones, Joe," one of the men said.
"It's not the rocks and the trees I'm trying to warn you about," Joe went on. "It's a creature we call Skin-and-Bones. On nights like this, she likes to trick travelers into giving her a ride. And then they're found the next morning, dead."
Jacob looked from one serious face to another in the room. Then he burst out laughing.
"You take me for a fool," he said. "I'm not going to be scared by any ghost story."
"But Skin-and-Bones isn't a ghost," Joe said in a deadly serious voice. "She's just skin and bones -- almost a skeleton. And when she gets her sharp, bony hands around your neck...."
Jacob threw down his napkin and pushed back his chair. "I've finished my meal, and now I'll be off. Your story was good entertainment. I'll keep it in mind on my journey."
Joe shrugged and took the money Jacob paid him for the meal. Then, as Jacob walked out the door, he called after him, "Good luck. And don't go picking up anybody asking you for a ride."
The cold wind hit Jacob with a blast as he hurried to his buggy. He unhitched the horses and climbed up on the seat. He pulled up the hood as high as it would go to give him shelter from the icy air. Then he slapped the reins against the horses' backs and set off down the road to Platkill.
The last light had faded from the sky, but a full moon lit the road as it snaked through the hills and woods of the rugged landscape. Jacob hummed a song to himself to help keep his spirits up. The cold air was beginning to numb his skin, and his arms were growing tired of holding the horses' reins. And for all his bragging at the inn, he didn't like being out on this deserted road alone at night.
The woods around him were a dense mixture of shadowy fir trees and giant oaks whose bare branches had been stripped of leaves by the wind. Every so often, the buggy would pass an outcropping of rock that gleamed white and ghostly in the moonlight.
Jacob's mind was drifting to thoughts of his friend's warm fireside when, suddenly, his horses let out a strange nickering sound. He looked around him in alarm, and then saw what had upset the horses. A figure was standing by the roadside ahead of him. She had a dark shawl over her head and was reaching out a white arm toward him. The moon was shining on her face, and Jacob could see that it was an old woman beckoning to him.
The story that the men at the inn had told him raced through his mind. His buggy came closer and closer to the woman, but he didn't pull in the reins on his horses. As he passed her by, he saw the look of disappointment on her tired, old face. Jacob thought about turning back to give the woman help, but something inside him whispered that he should go on.
Jacob slapped the reins angrily against the horses' backs and made them race down the road. He felt like a fool. But soon he would reach Platkill and be able to forget all about his journey.
The horses trotted down the lonely road while Jacob shivered on the buggy seat. Then he felt a tension in the reins. The two horses reared back and pranced around on the road, nervous and skittish. It took all Jacob's strength to get them back under control. When they were calm again, he sat on the buggy seat, his heart beating fast, and caught his breath.
Then he saw the slight figure standing by the side of the road. In the moonlight, he could see that she was a young woman with long, reddish-gold hair. She was clutching her green cape around her and looking at him with imploring eyes.
"Sir," she called out. "I need a ride to Platkill. I was thrown off my horse over two hours ago, and I am cold and tired. You're the first person who has come along to help. Could I please have a ride in your carriage?"
Jacob watched the young woman's face as she walked closer. He had seldom seen a woman so lovely, and her voice was soft and refined.
"It would be my pleasure to take you to Platkill," he said, stretching out a hand to help her up onto the buggy seat. "I'm headed there myself tonight, to visit an old friend."
"You're very kind," the young woman said. "I would have frozen in another hour on a night like this."
Jacob pulled his eyes away from her beautiful face that was so close to his now. He slapped the reins on the horses' backs, and the carriage rolled off down the road again.
At first Jacob asked the young woman questions. But she seemed shy and reserved. He realized that she might be frightened of him, a stranger who had picked her up on a lonely road.
For a long while, they traveled on in silence. Every so often, Jacob would glance over at her face. Several times she smiled back at him, her eyes glowing in the moonlight. But then he noticed that her face had set into a hardened expression that didn't change when their eyes met. And even later, when he looked at her,
Jacob thought that she did not look as beautiful as she had at first.
Jacob turned his eyes onto the narrow, dark road in front of him and smiled. Perhaps he had just imagined that she was so beautiful, standing alone on the deserted road in the moonlight. He glanced over at her once more and felt a shock go through his body.
The woman's face no longer looked young. Her skin had lines in it, and her hair looked dull and gray, not reddish gold, in the moonlight. Jacob put the reins in one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other hand. He suddenly felt confused and exhausted. He glanced over to see the woman watching him closely. Her dark eyes seemed to be sunken in their sockets, and her cheekbones stuck out of her thin face.
Jacob shuddered and turned his eyes back to the road. Something was nagging at the back of his mind and making him frightened and nervous. He clenched his teeth and fixed his eyes on the road ahead. According to his calculations, he should be in Platkill in less than fifteen minutes. He would be glad to reach his friend's house and be out of this strange country.
In a flash a prickling feeling started at the back of his neck. It traveled down his spine and then spread through all his body. He willed his eyes to stay on the road, but he could stand it no longer. He turned to look at the woman.
A skeleton sat on the carriage seat beside him, grinning a horrible smile. Jacob knew it was Skin-and-Bones. He gripped the reins in terror and then saw the skeleton's bony hands move out from under her cape and reach for his neck.
Jacob twisted away as Skin-and-Bones's arms lunged for him and clawed at his clothing. He let the reins drop and put his arms up to protect his neck. The bony arms were clutching at him now, and he could barely struggle against their deathly grip. The horses pranced and galloped wildly down the road.
Jacob felt the sharp, bony fingers closing around his neck. He felt his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. Skin-and-Bones had her face pressed up against his. Jacob pulled together all the life he had left in his body. With a burst of strength he tore away the hands from his neck. Skin-and-Bones reeled back, still grinning her horrible smile. Once again, she lunged for his throat, but Jacob caught her bony wrists in his hands. He wrenched her out of her seat and threw her over the side of the buggy. With a bloodcurdling scream, Skin-and-Bones fell onto the road.
Jacob slumped back in the buggy, half conscious, and let the horses run down the road to Platkill.
"Jacob Cooper, is that you?" a voice was saying.
Jacob opened his eyes to see his friend looking at him with worried eyes.
"Jacob, what's the matter?" his friend asked. "The horses brought you here, but you were unconscious. Are you sick?"
"Skin-and-Bones," Jacob mumbled.
"What nonsense are you talking?" his friend exclaimed.
"Skin-and-Bones," Jacob repeated. "She tried to kill me."
"Did you hear that superstitious old story?" his friend asked, pulling him to the ground. "The local people tell that to frighten travelers."
Jacob rubbed his eyes and looked up at the moonlight. Had it all just been a dream? Then he looked at his friend and saw the expression of horror on his face. Jacob followed his friend's eyes to the side of the buggy.
There, dangling from the hook that had caught it as she fell, was the white, bony hand... of Skin-and-Bones.
The Snake Charmer
Lucy Morris sat on the veranda of her parents' house outside the village of Kampur. Servants came and went, adding ice to her lemonade or fetching her a book or treat. Still, Lucy's mouth was set in a pout. She didn't like this foreign place. Her father had come here to do research for three years, but only one month had passed, and to Lucy, it had seemed like an eternity.
The heavy, humid heat made Lucy feel faint. The strong, spicy smells of the food made her lose her appetite. And the insects that scurried about the house made her scream in terror.
Lucy sat on the veranda pouring out all her anger into a letter she was writing her friend back home. Slowly, as she wrote, she became aware of a sound she hadn't heard before. It was a tune, a low, whining tune being played on a flute of some kind. Lucy didn't know how long the music had been playing, but once she was aware of it, she could hear nothing else.
She threw down her pen and paper and got up from the big wicker chair where she had been sitting. Then she walked to the end of the veranda that was near the road. The house sat on a dusty, seldom-traveled road that led to the nearby village. Lucy peered down over the veranda railing and caught her breath at what she saw.
On the ground was an old man, dressed in rags, moving back and forth as he played the flute that was making the hypnotic music she heard. The song repeated itself over and over again in high, whining notes. Lucy was about to call to the man to go away when she noticed the basket sitting in front of him. From a hole in its top, a sinister, flat-headed snake was swaying back and forth to the music.
Lucy screamed when she saw the snake. She had a deathly fear of snakes. The man glanced up at her with his dark eyes and then went on playing the song for his cobra.
Lucy ran back into the house and demanded that the servants tell the man to leave at once.
But the servants shook their heads and muttered that it would bring bad luck to them. Lucy wished her mother and father were at home, but they were gone for three days on a research trip. So Lucy ran back out to the end of the veranda and shouted to the old man to go away.
For a moment, he seemed not to hear her. But Lucy kept shouting and motioning to him. Then suddenly he stopped moving and playing the flute and stared at her with his bottomless, black eyes. The cobra suddenly stopped swaying and turned to look at Lucy, too. The snake's evil-looking eyes seemed to be memorizing her face. Lucy shrank back in fear and ran into the house. Once again, the insidious music began.
The music kept up through dinner and into the evening. When Lucy went to bed, she could still hear the song of the snake charmer's flute. In her mind, she could see the cobra swaying back and forth to the music. After hours of tossing and turning in the hot air, she finally fell asleep.
When Lucy woke up, she noticed a change in the air. It was silent. The music had stopped. Lucy ran to her window that looked out onto the road. Looking back up at her from the ground was the snake charmer. When he saw her face he took up his flute and began to play. The music wound its way through the window into Lucy's brain.
At breakfast she threw a temper tantrum and demanded that the servants get rid of the snake charmer. But once again, they refused. They tried to tell her that such a man had strange powers, but she wouldn't listen. She went to the back of the house as far away from the music as she could get.
Lucy stayed inside the house all morning and all afternoon. But still she could not escape the snake charmer's song. Before dinner, she walked out onto the veranda and called to the man.
"I will give you money," she said, "if you'll just go away. What is it you want?"
The man played his song for several more minutes. Then he stopped and looked up at her.
"Something that belongs to you," he said, showing chipped, yellowed teeth. "A lock of your golden hair."
Just then, the cobra reared its head toward Lucy. She shrank back and ran into the house, shutting the door tightly behind her. But the music started up again, like a mad tune in her brain.
Lucy spent another restless night, tossing and turning, and covering her head with a pillow to keep out the sound of the music. She woke so late the next morning that the snake charmer had already started playing by the time she got up. Lucy wasn't sure she could stand it any longer.
She sat down in front of her mirror and started to brush her long, blonde hair. Then she remembered the snake charmer's wish. She picked up a lock of her hair and thought how she would hate to cut it. But if that would get rid of the man and his horrible music, perhaps it would be worth losing.
Lucy searched her drawers for a pair of scissors. She couldn't find one anywhere. She opened her closet doors to see if any were among her childhood toys stored there. At last she found a pair in a box with colored paper and crayons. Then something else caught her eye in the stack of toys in the closet. It was a doll she'd been given when she was six, a doll with long, blonde hair. Her mother had told her the hair was real.
Lucy pulled the doll from her closet and held its head up to hers in front of the mirror. Their hair colors matched perfectly. Lucy laid the doll down on her bed and snipped off a lock of its hair and rushed from the room.
Lucy ran out to the end of the veranda and called to the snake charmer. He kept playing his song until she held up the lock of golden hair for him to see. Then he put down his flute and reached up to take the hair.
Lucy saw the strange look on his face as he took the hair from her hands. She saw the cobra's evil eyes staring at her again. Then the snake showed its short fangs at her.
"Now go away!" she screamed and ran back into the house.
All that morning and afternoon, the house was perfectly still. Just before dinner, a friend of her mother's came to visit Lucy. She said that Lucy's parents would be returning from their trip that night. Lucy felt the happiest she had been since coming to Kampur. She was rid of the snake charmer and his music. And soon her parents would be home.
They came later than she expected, long after dinner was over and when it was almost time for Lucy to go to bed. Lucy hugged her mother and father and then waited for the presents she knew they'd bring. Right after she opened the presents, she began to tell the story of the snake charmer and his endless music.
"But how did you get him to leave?" her mother asked.
"He wanted a lock of my hair," Lucy said. "So I gave him a lock of hair."
"No, Lucy," her father gasped. "You didn't do that! Not to a man like that!"
"Yes, I did," Lucy said. "I gave him a lock of hair...."
She didn't have a chance to finish. Her father jumped to his feet and ran toward her bedroom. Lucy ran after him, trying to tell the rest of her story. But Mr. Morris didn't stop until he reached her bedroom door and threw it open. Lucy ran up beside him as he turned on the lights. Together they stared in horror at the thing on the bed.
Lucy's blonde-haired doll still lay there. And wrapped around it in a death grip... was the evil-eyed cobra of the snake charmer.
The Snipe Hunt
The twelve boys sat around the campfire, roasting marshmallows on sticks after finishing their evening meal. Their faces were lit by the jumping flames of the fire -- eight older faces and four younger faces. The older boys looked relaxed
and confident. But the younger boys looked tense and worried. Tonight they would be tested.
Ty, who was only eleven, was the youngest boy in the group. Jimmy, Paul, and Brad were twelve, but this was their initiation night, too. If they made it through tonight, they'd be let into the camping club.
"What do you think they'll do to us?" Ty whispered to Brad, who sat beside him by the fire.
"I don't know," Brad answered. "Ask Paul. His brother is one of the older guys."
Ty turned to Paul on his other side. "What will they do to us tonight?" he asked in a low voice.
"I heard my brother talk about a snipe hunt," Paul whispered back.
"A snipe hunt?" Ty said. "What's that?"
Before Paul could answer, Mark, one of the leaders, started to talk. Everyone paid attention.
"I want to warn you younger guys about something," Paul began. "These woods are pretty far from civilization. We're out here in the middle of nowhere by ourselves, and we have to be careful. Nobody knows for sure what kind of animals are in the woods -- wolves, bears, and bobcats. We've had our supper... but they might still be hungry."
Ty looked at Brad nervously. Brad's face had grown serious, too.
"And there's another thing I have to tell you," Mark went on. "I heard something on the radio today, just before we left to come here. I've been trying to decide whether or not to tell you, but now I think I should. A murderer escaped from the state penitentiary in Columbus last night. The police haven't caught him yet, but they know he headed in a northwest direction. They figure he's covering about twenty miles a day... and, well, you know about where that would take him."
"This place is about twenty miles northwest of Columbus," Brad said.
"Yeah, that's right," Mark said. "But now that we're here, I don't think we should call off our camping trip just because of an escaped murderer."
Ty noticed that his hands were shaking so much that his marshmallow stick was moving up and down. The marshmallow had burned to a crisp.
Still More Tales For The Midnight Hour Page 6