* * *
September slipped into October. Tarleton was busy at Miskatonic. He taught some classes of freshman students in both geography and geology. His speciality was the ancient igneous rocks of the northern United States and Canada. He collated the rock specimens and photographs brought back by Professor Atkinson from his trips to Mexico and Central America. He imagined the sun warming these rocks, so very different from the barren Arctic wastes of..., no his mind skittered away from those terrible images. Also, he marked papers and did a little research into volcanism and the new theories of plate tectonics.
He spent some time in the library but kept well away from those locked doors leading to the basement. Those subterranean vaults containing, according to repute, those tomes that the Chief Librarian, Dr. Henry Armitage, only allowed certain trusted researchers permission to access. Like many fellows and students, Tarleton had heard rumours as to the names of some of those books but even the boldest students spoke of them only in whispers. Officially, of course, the very existence of these books was denied.
Massachusetts' fall foliage was spectacular and from his room in his parents mansion high up on French Hill he could see the forests in the distance. The vivid reds, oranges and yellows with a dash of plum brightened the vista but as the month progressed, more and more the browns dominated. A clear portent that another New England winter was on its way.
The Horror From The Blizzard Page 5