The Last Galley; Impressions and Tales

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  THE TERROR OF BLUE JOHN GAP

  The following narrative was found among the papers of Dr. JamesHardcastle, who died of phthisis on February 4th, 1908, at 36, UpperCoventry Flats, South Kensington. Those who knew him best, whilerefusing to express an opinion upon this particular statement, areunanimous in asserting that he was a man of a sober and scientific turnof mind, absolutely devoid of imagination, and most unlikely to inventany abnormal series of events. The paper was contained in an envelope,which was docketed, "A Short Account of the Circumstances which occurrednear Miss Allerton's Farm in North-West Derbyshire in the Spring of LastYear." The envelope was sealed, and on the other side was written inpencil--

  DEAR SEATON,--

  "It may interest, and perhaps pain you, to know that the incredulitywith which you met my story has prevented me from ever opening my mouthupon the subject again. I leave this record after my death, and perhapsstrangers may be found to have more confidence in me than my friend."

  Inquiry has failed to elicit who this Seaton may have been. I may addthat the visit of the deceased to Allerton's Farm, and the generalnature of the alarm there, apart from his particular explanation, havebeen absolutely established. With this foreword I append his accountexactly as he left it. It is in the form of a diary, some entries inwhich have been expanded, while a few have been erased.

  April 17.--Already I feel the benefit of this wonderful upland air.The farm of the Allertons lies fourteen hundred and twenty feet abovesea-level, so it may well be a bracing climate. Beyond the usual morningcough I have very little discomfort, and, what with the fresh milk andthe home-grown mutton, I have every chance of putting on weight. I thinkSaunderson will be pleased.

  The two Miss Allertons are charmingly quaint and kind, two dear littlehard-working old maids, who are ready to lavish all the heart whichmight have gone out to husband and to children upon an invalid stranger.Truly, the old maid is a most useful person, one of the reserve forcesof the community. They talk of the superfluous woman, but what wouldthe poor superfluous man do without her kindly presence? By the way,in their simplicity they very quickly let out the reason why Saundersonrecommended their farm. The Professor rose from the ranks himself, andI believe that in his youth he was not above scaring crows in these veryfields.

  It is a most lonely spot, and the walks are picturesque in the extreme.The farm consists of grazing land lying at the bottom of an irregularvalley. On each side are the fantastic limestone hills, formed of rockso soft that you can break it away with your hands. All this country ishollow. Could you strike it with some gigantic hammer it would boom likea drum, or possibly cave in altogether and expose some huge subterraneansea. A great sea there must surely be, for on all sides the streams runinto the mountain itself, never to reappear. There are gaps everywhereamid the rocks, and when you pass through them you find yourself ingreat caverns, which wind down into the bowels of the earth. I have asmall bicycle lamp, and it is a perpetual joy to me to carry it intothese weird solitudes, and to see the wonderful silver and black effectwhen I throw its light upon the stalactites which drape the lofty roofs.Shut off the lamp, and you are in the blackest darkness. Turn it on, andit is a scene from the Arabian Nights.

  But there is one of these strange openings in the earth which has aspecial interest, for it is the handiwork, not of nature, but of man. Ihad never heard of Blue John when I came to these parts. It is the namegiven to a peculiar mineral of a beautiful purple shade, which is onlyfound at one or two places in the world. It is so rare that an ordinaryvase of Blue John would be valued at a great price. The Romans, withthat extraordinary instinct of theirs, discovered that it was to befound in this valley, and sank a horizontal shaft deep into the mountainside. The opening of their mine has been called Blue John Gap, aclean-cut arch in the rock, the mouth all overgrown with bushes. It isa goodly passage which the Roman miners have cut, and it intersects someof the great water-worn caves, so that if you enter Blue John Gap youwould do well to mark your steps and to have a good store of candles, oryou may never make your way back to the daylight again. I have notyet gone deeply into it, but this very day I stood at the mouth of thearched tunnel, and peering down into the black recesses beyond, I vowedthat when my health returned I would devote some holiday to exploringthose mysterious depths and finding out for myself how far the Roman hadpenetrated into the Derbyshire hills.

  Strange how superstitious these countrymen are! I should have thoughtbetter of young Armitage, for he is a man of some education andcharacter, and a very fine fellow for his station in life. I wasstanding at the Blue John Gap when he came across the field to me.

  "Well, doctor," said he, "you're not afraid, anyhow."

  "Afraid!" I answered. "Afraid of what?"

  "Of it," said he, with a jerk of his thumb towards the black vault, "ofthe Terror that lives in the Blue John Cave."

  How absurdly easy it is for a legend to arise in a lonely countryside! Iexamined him as to the reasons for his weird belief. It seems that fromtime to time sheep have been missing from the fields, carried bodilyaway, according to Armitage. That they could have wandered away of theirown accord and disappeared among the mountains was an explanation towhich he would not listen. On one occasion a pool of blood had beenfound, and some tufts of wool. That also, I pointed out, could beexplained in a perfectly natural way. Further, the nights upon whichsheep disappeared were invariably very dark, cloudy nights with no moon.This I met with the obvious retort that those were the nights which acommonplace sheep-stealer would naturally choose for his work. On oneoccasion a gap had been made in a wall, and some of the stones scatteredfor a considerable distance. Human agency again, in my opinion. Finally,Armitage clinched all his arguments by telling me that he had actuallyheard the Creature--indeed, that anyone could hear it who remained longenough at the Gap. It was a distant roaring of an immense volume.I could not but smile at this, knowing, as I do, the strangereverberations which come out of an underground water system runningamid the chasms of a limestone formation. My incredulity annoyedArmitage, so that he turned and left me with some abruptness.

  And now comes the queer point about the whole business. I was stillstanding near the mouth of the cave turning over in my mind the variousstatements of Armitage, and reflecting how readily they could beexplained away, when suddenly, from the depth of the tunnel beside me,there issued a most extraordinary sound. How shall I describe it? Firstof all it seemed to be a great distance away, far down in the bowelsof the earth. Secondly, in spite of this suggestion of distance, it wasvery loud. Lastly, it was not a boom, nor a crash, such as one wouldassociate with falling water or tumbling rock, but it was a high whine,tremulous and vibrating, almost like the whinnying of a horse. It wascertainly a most remarkable experience, and one which for a moment, Imust admit, gave a new significance to Armitage's words. I waited by theBlue John Gap for half an hour or more, but there was no return of thesound, so at last I wandered back to the farmhouse, rather mystifiedby what had occurred. Decidedly I shall explore that cavern when mystrength is restored. Of course, Armitage's explanation is too absurdfor discussion, and yet that sound was certainly very strange. It stillrings in my ears as I write.

  April 20.--In the last three days I have made several expeditions tothe Blue John Gap, and have even penetrated some short distance, but mybicycle lantern is so small and weak that I dare not trust myself veryfar. I shall do the thing more systematically. I have heard no soundat all, and could almost believe that I had been the victim of somehallucination, suggested, perhaps, by Armitage's conversation. Ofcourse, the whole idea is absurd, and yet I must confess that thosebushes at the entrance of the cave do present an appearance as if someheavy creature had forced its way through them. I begin to be keenlyinterested. I have said nothing to the Miss Allertons, for they arequite superstitious enough already, but I have bought some candles, andmean to investigate for myself.

  I observed this morning that among the numerous tufts of sheep's woolwhich lay among the bushes near the ca
vern there was one which wassmeared with blood. Of course, my reason tells me that if sheep wanderinto such rocky places they are likely to injure themselves, and yetsomehow that splash of crimson gave me a sudden shock, and for a momentI found myself shrinking back in horror from the old Roman arch. A fetidbreath seemed to ooze from the black depths into which I peered. Couldit indeed be possible that some nameless thing, some dreadful presence,was lurking down yonder? I should have been incapable of such feelingsin the days of my strength, but one grows more nervous and fanciful whenone's health is shaken.

  For the moment I weakened in my resolution, and was ready to leave thesecret of the old mine, if one exists, for ever unsolved. But tonight myinterest has returned and my nerves grown more steady. Tomorrow I trustthat I shall have gone more deeply into this matter.

  April 22.--Let me try and set down as accurately as I can myextraordinary experience of yesterday. I started in the afternoon, andmade my way to the Blue John Gap. I confess that my misgivings returnedas I gazed into its depths, and I wished that I had brought a companionto share my exploration. Finally, with a return of resolution, I lit mycandle, pushed my way through the briars, and descended into the rockyshaft.

  It went down at an acute angle for some fifty feet, the floor beingcovered with broken stone. Thence there extended a long, straightpassage cut in the solid rock. I am no geologist, but the lining of thiscorridor was certainly of some harder material than limestone, for therewere points where I could actually see the tool-marks which the oldminers had left in their excavation, as fresh as if they had been doneyesterday. Down this strange, old-world corridor I stumbled, my feebleflame throwing a dim circle of light around me, which made the shadowsbeyond the more threatening and obscure. Finally, I came to a spot wherethe Roman tunnel opened into a water-worn cavern--a huge hall, hung withlong white icicles of lime deposit. From this central chamber I coulddimly perceive that a number of passages worn by the subterraneanstreams wound away into the depths of the earth. I was standing therewondering whether I had better return, or whether I dare venture fartherinto this dangerous labyrinth, when my eyes fell upon something at myfeet which strongly arrested my attention.

  The greater part of the floor of the cavern was covered with bouldersof rock or with hard incrustations of lime, but at this particular pointthere had been a drip from the distant roof, which had left a patchof soft mud. In the very centre of this there was a huge mark--anill-defined blotch, deep, broad and irregular, as if a great boulder hadfallen upon it. No loose stone lay near, however, nor was there anythingto account for the impression. It was far too large to be caused by anypossible animal, and besides, there was only the one, and the patch ofmud was of such a size that no reasonable stride could have covered it.As I rose from the examination of that singular mark and then lookedround into the black shadows which hemmed me in, I must confess that Ifelt for a moment a most unpleasant sinking of my heart, and that, dowhat I could, the candle trembled in my outstretched hand.

  I soon recovered my nerve, however, when I reflected how absurd it wasto associate so huge and shapeless a mark with the track of any knownanimal. Even an elephant could not have produced it. I determined,therefore, that I would not be scared by vague and senseless fears fromcarrying out my exploration. Before proceeding, I took good note ofa curious rock formation in the wall by which I could recognize theentrance of the Roman tunnel. The precaution was very necessary, forthe great cave, so far as I could see it, was intersected by passages.Having made sure of my position, and reassured myself by examiningmy spare candles and my matches, I advanced slowly over the rocky anduneven surface of the cavern.

  And now I come to the point where I met with such sudden and desperatedisaster. A stream, some twenty feet broad, ran across my path, and Iwalked for some little distance along the bank to find a spot where Icould cross dry-shod. Finally, I came to a place where a single flatboulder lay near the centre, which I could reach in a stride. As itchanced, however, the rock had been cut away and made top-heavy by therush of the stream, so that it tilted over as I landed on it and shotme into the ice-cold water. My candle went out, and I found myselffloundering about in utter and absolute darkness.

  I staggered to my feet again, more amused than alarmed by my adventure.The candle had fallen from my hand, and was lost in the stream, but Ihad two others in my pocket, so that it was of no importance. I got oneof them ready, and drew out my box of matches to light it. Only thendid I realize my position. The box had been soaked in my fall into theriver. It was impossible to strike the matches.

  A cold hand seemed to close round my heart as I realized my position.The darkness was opaque and horrible. It was so utter that one put one'shand up to one's face as if to press off something solid. I stood still,and by an effort I steadied myself. I tried to reconstruct in my mind amap of the floor of the cavern as I had last seen it. Alas! the bearingswhich had impressed themselves upon my mind were high on the wall, andnot to be found by touch. Still, I remembered in a general way how thesides were situated, and I hoped that by groping my way along them Ishould at last come to the opening of the Roman tunnel. Moving veryslowly, and continually striking against the rocks, I set out on thisdesperate quest.

  But I very soon realized how impossible it was. In that black, velvetydarkness one lost all one's bearings in an instant. Before I had made adozen paces, I was utterly bewildered as to my whereabouts. The ripplingof the stream, which was the one sound audible, showed me where it lay,but the moment that I left its bank I was utterly lost. The ideaof finding my way back in absolute darkness through that limestonelabyrinth was clearly an impossible one.

  I sat down upon a boulder and reflected upon my unfortunate plight. Ihad not told anyone that I proposed to come to the Blue John mine, andit was unlikely that a search party would come after me. Therefore Imust trust to my own resources to get clear of the danger. There wasonly one hope, and that was that the matches might dry. When I fell intothe river, only half of me had got thoroughly wet. My left shoulder hadremained above the water. I took the box of matches, therefore, and putit into my left armpit. The moist air of the cavern might possibly becounteracted by the heat of my body, but even so, I knew that I couldnot hope to get a light for many hours. Meanwhile there was nothing forit but to wait.

  By good luck I had slipped several biscuits into my pocket before Ileft the farm-house. These I now devoured, and washed them down witha draught from that wretched stream which had been the cause of all mymisfortunes. Then I felt about for a comfortable seat among the rocks,and, having discovered a place where I could get a support for myback, I stretched out my legs and settled myself down to wait. Iwas wretchedly damp and cold, but I tried to cheer myself with thereflection that modern science prescribed open windows and walks in allweather for my disease. Gradually, lulled by the monotonous gurgle ofthe stream, and by the absolute darkness, I sank into an uneasy slumber.

  How long this lasted I cannot say. It may have been for an hour, it mayhave been for several. Suddenly I sat up on my rock couch, with everynerve thrilling and every sense acutely on the alert. Beyond all doubtI had heard a sound--some sound very distinct from the gurgling of thewaters. It had passed, but the reverberation of it still lingered in myear. Was it a search party? They would most certainly have shouted, andvague as this sound was which had wakened me, it was very distinct fromthe human voice. I sat palpitating and hardly daring to breathe.There it was again! And again! Now it had become continuous. It was atread--yes, surely it was the tread of some living creature. But what atread it was! It gave one the impression of enormous weight carried uponsponge-like feet, which gave forth a muffled but ear-filling sound.The darkness was as complete as ever, but the tread was regular anddecisive. And it was coming beyond all question in my direction.

  My skin grew cold, and my hair stood on end as I listened to that steadyand ponderous footfall. There was some creature there, and surely by thespeed of its advance, it was one which could see in the dark. I crouchedlow on my r
ock and tried to blend myself into it. The steps grew nearerstill, then stopped, and presently I was aware of a loud lapping andgurgling. The creature was drinking at the stream. Then again there wassilence, broken by a succession of long sniffs and snorts of tremendousvolume and energy. Had it caught the scent of me? My own nostrils werefilled by a low fetid odour, mephitic and abominable. Then I heard thesteps again. They were on my side of the stream now. The stones rattledwithin a few yards of where I lay. Hardly daring to breathe, I crouchedupon my rock. Then the steps drew away. I heard the splash as itreturned across the river, and the sound died away into the distance inthe direction from which it had come.

  For a long time I lay upon the rock, too much horrified to move. Ithought of the sound which I had heard coming from the depths of thecave, of Armitage's fears, of the strange impression in the mud, andnow came this final and absolute proof that there was indeed someinconceivable monster, something utterly unearthly and dreadful, whichlurked in the hollow of the mountain. Of its nature or form I couldframe no conception, save that it was both light-footed and gigantic.The combat between my reason, which told me that such things could notbe, and my senses, which told me that they were, raged within me as Ilay. Finally, I was almost ready to persuade myself that this experiencehad been part of some evil dream, and that my abnormal conditionmight have conjured up an hallucination. But there remained one finalexperience which removed the last possibility of doubt from my mind.

  I had taken my matches from my armpit and felt them. They seemedperfectly hard and dry. Stooping down into a crevice of the rocks, Itried one of them. To my delight it took fire at once. I lit the candle,and, with a terrified backward glance into the obscure depths of thecavern, I hurried in the direction of the Roman passage. As I did soI passed the patch of mud on which I had seen the huge imprint. Now Istood astonished before it, for there were three similar imprints uponits surface, enormous in size, irregular in outline, of a depth whichindicated the ponderous weight which had left them. Then a great terrorsurged over me. Stooping and shading my candle with my hand, I ran in afrenzy of fear to the rocky archway, hastened up it, and never stoppeduntil, with weary feet and panting lungs, I rushed up the final slope ofstones, broke through the tangle of briars, and flung myself exhaustedupon the soft grass under the peaceful light of the stars. It wasthree in the morning when I reached the farm-house, and today I am allunstrung and quivering after my terrific adventure. As yet I have toldno one. I must move warily in the matter. What would the poor lonelywomen, or the uneducated yokels here think of it if I were to tell themmy experience? Let me go to someone who can understand and advise.

  April 25.--I was laid up in bed for two days after my incredibleadventure in the cavern. I use the adjective with a very definitemeaning, for I have had an experience since which has shocked me almostas much as the other. I have said that I was looking round for someonewho could advise me. There is a Dr. Mark Johnson who practices somefew miles away, to whom I had a note of recommendation from ProfessorSaunderson. To him I drove, when I was strong enough to get about, and Irecounted to him my whole strange experience. He listened intently, andthen carefully examined me, paying special attention to my reflexes andto the pupils of my eyes. When he had finished, he refused to discussmy adventure, saying that it was entirely beyond him, but he gave methe card of a Mr. Picton at Castleton, with the advice that I shouldinstantly go to him and tell him the story exactly as I had doneto himself. He was, according to my adviser, the very man who waspre-eminently suited to help me. I went on to the station, therefore,and made my way to the little town, which is some ten miles away.Mr. Picton appeared to be a man of importance, as his brass plate wasdisplayed upon the door of a considerable building on the outskirts ofthe town. I was about to ring his bell, when some misgiving came into mymind, and, crossing to a neighbouring shop, I asked the man behind thecounter if he could tell me anything of Mr. Picton. "Why," said he, "heis the best mad doctor in Derbyshire, and yonder is his asylum." You canimagine that it was not long before I had shaken the dust of Castletonfrom my feet and returned to the farm, cursing all unimaginative pedantswho cannot conceive that there may be things in creation which havenever yet chanced to come across their mole's vision. After all,now that I am cooler, I can afford to admit that I have been no moresympathetic to Armitage than Dr. Johnson has been to me.

  April 27. When I was a student I had the reputation of being a man ofcourage and enterprise. I remember that when there was a ghost-hunt atColtbridge it was I who sat up in the haunted house. Is it advancingyears (after all, I am only thirty-five), or is it this physical maladywhich has caused degeneration? Certainly my heart quails when I thinkof that horrible cavern in the hill, and the certainty that it has somemonstrous occupant. What shall I do? There is not an hour in the daythat I do not debate the question. If I say nothing, then the mysteryremains unsolved. If I do say anything, then I have the alternative ofmad alarm over the whole countryside, or of absolute incredulity whichmay end in consigning me to an asylum. On the whole, I think that mybest course is to wait, and to prepare for some expedition which shallbe more deliberate and better thought out than the last. As a firststep I have been to Castleton and obtained a few essentials--a largeacetylene lantern for one thing, and a good double-barrelled sportingrifle for another. The latter I have hired, but I have bought a dozenheavy game cartridges, which would bring down a rhinoceros. Now I amready for my troglodyte friend. Give me better health and a little spateof energy, and I shall try conclusions with him yet. But who and what ishe? Ah! there is the question which stands between me and my sleep.How many theories do I form, only to discard each in turn! It is allso utterly unthinkable. And yet the cry, the footmark, the tread inthe cavern--no reasoning can get past these. I think of the old-worldlegends of dragons and of other monsters. Were they, perhaps, not suchfairy-tales as we have thought? Can it be that there is some fact whichunderlies them, and am I, of all mortals, the one who is chosen toexpose it?

  May 3.--For several days I have been laid up by the vagaries of anEnglish spring, and during those days there have been developments, thetrue and sinister meaning of which no one can appreciate save myself.I may say that we have had cloudy and moonless nights of late,which according to my information were the seasons upon which sheepdisappeared. Well, sheep _have_ disappeared. Two of Miss Allerton's, oneof old Pearson's of the Cat Walk, and one of Mrs. Moulton's. Four inall during three nights. No trace is left of them at all, and thecountryside is buzzing with rumours of gipsies and of sheep-stealers.

  But there is something more serious than that. Young Armitage hasdisappeared also. He left his moorland cottage early on Wednesday nightand has never been heard of since. He was an unattached man, so there isless sensation than would otherwise be the case. The popular explanationis that he owes money, and has found a situation in some other part ofthe country, whence he will presently write for his belongings. ButI have grave misgivings. Is it not much more likely that the recenttragedy of the sheep has caused him to take some steps which may haveended in his own destruction? He may, for example, have lain in waitfor the creature and been carried off by it into the recesses of themountains. What an inconceivable fate for a civilized Englishman of thetwentieth century! And yet I feel that it is possible and even probable.But in that case, how far am I answerable both for his death and forany other mishap which may occur? Surely with the knowledge I alreadypossess it must be my duty to see that something is done, or ifnecessary to do it myself. It must be the latter, for this morning Iwent down to the local police-station and told my story. The inspectorentered it all in a large book and bowed me out with commendablegravity, but I heard a burst of laughter before I had got down hisgarden path. No doubt he was recounting my adventure to his family.

  June 10.--I am writing this, propped up in bed, six weeks after my lastentry in this journal. I have gone through a terrible shock both to mindand body, arising from such an experience as has seldom befallen a humanbeing before. But I have attained
my end. The danger from the Terrorwhich dwells in the Blue John Gap has passed never to return. Thus muchat least I, a broken invalid, have done for the common good. Let me nowrecount what occurred as clearly as I may.

  The night of Friday, May 3rd, was dark and cloudy--the very night forthe monster to walk. About eleven o'clock I went from the farm-housewith my lantern and my rifle, having first left a note upon the tableof my bedroom in which I said that, if I were missing, search should bemade for me in the direction of the Gap. I made my way to the mouth ofthe Roman shaft, and, having perched myself among the rocks close to theopening, I shut off my lantern and waited patiently with my loaded rifleready to my hand.

  It was a melancholy vigil. All down the winding valley I could seethe scattered lights of the farm-houses, and the church clock ofChapel-le-Dale tolling the hours came faintly to my ears. These tokensof my fellow-men served only to make my own position seem the morelonely, and to call for a greater effort to overcome the terror whichtempted me continually to get back to the farm, and abandon for everthis dangerous quest. And yet there lies deep in every man a rootedself-respect which makes it hard for him to turn back from that whichhe has once undertaken. This feeling of personal pride was my salvationnow, and it was that alone which held me fast when every instinct of mynature was dragging me away. I am glad now that I had the strength. Inspite of all that is has cost me, my manhood is at least above reproach.

  Twelve o'clock struck in the distant church, then one, then two. It wasthe darkest hour of the night. The clouds were drifting low, and therewas not a star in the sky. An owl was hooting somewhere among the rocks,but no other sound, save the gentle sough of the wind, came to my ears.And then suddenly I heard it! From far away down the tunnel came thosemuffled steps, so soft and yet so ponderous. I heard also the rattle ofstones as they gave way under that giant tread. They drew nearer.They were close upon me. I heard the crashing of the bushes round theentrance, and then dimly through the darkness I was conscious of theloom of some enormous shape, some monstrous inchoate creature, passingswiftly and very silently out from the tunnel. I was paralysed with fearand amazement. Long as I had waited, now that it had actually come I wasunprepared for the shock. I lay motionless and breathless, whilst thegreat dark mass whisked by me and was swallowed up in the night.

  But now I nerved myself for its return. No sound came from the sleepingcountryside to tell of the horror which was loose. In no way could Ijudge how far off it was, what it was doing, or when it might be back.But not a second time should my nerve fail me, not a second time shouldit pass unchallenged. I swore it between my clenched teeth as I laid mycocked rifle across the rock.

  And yet it nearly happened. There was no warning of approach now as thecreature passed over the grass. Suddenly, like a dark, drifting shadow,the huge bulk loomed up once more before me, making for the entrance ofthe cave. Again came that paralysis of volition which held my crookedforefinger impotent upon the trigger. But with a desperate effort Ishook it off. Even as the brushwood rustled, and the monstrous beastblended with the shadow of the Gap, I fired at the retreating form.In the blaze of the gun I caught a glimpse of a great shaggy mass,something with rough and bristling hair of a withered grey colour,fading away to white in its lower parts, the huge body supported uponshort, thick, curving legs. I had just that glance, and then I heard therattle of the stones as the creature tore down into its burrow. In aninstant, with a triumphant revulsion of feeling, I had cast my fears tothe wind, and uncovering my powerful lantern, with my rifle in my hand,I sprang down from my rock and rushed after the monster down the oldRoman shaft.

  My splendid lamp cast a brilliant flood of vivid light in front of me,very different from the yellow glimmer which had aided me down thesame passage only twelve days before. As I ran, I saw the great beastlurching along before me, its huge bulk filling up the whole space fromwall to wall. Its hair looked like coarse faded oakum, and hung downin long, dense masses which swayed as it moved. It was like an enormousunclipped sheep in its fleece, but in size it was far larger than thelargest elephant, and its breadth seemed to be nearly as great as itsheight. It fills me with amazement now to think that I should have daredto follow such a horror into the bowels of the earth, but when one'sblood is up, and when one's quarry seems to be flying, the old primevalhunting-spirit awakes and prudence is cast to the wind. Rifle in hand, Iran at the top of my speed upon the trail of the monster.

  I had seen that the creature was swift. Now I was to find out to mycost that it was also very cunning. I had imagined that it was in panicflight, and that I had only to pursue it. The idea that it might turnupon me never entered my excited brain. I have already explained thatthe passage down which I was racing opened into a great central cave.Into this I rushed, fearful lest I should lose all trace of the beast.But he had turned upon his own traces, and in a moment we were face toface.

  That picture, seen in the brilliant white light of the lantern, isetched for ever upon my brain. He had reared up on his hind legs as abear would do, and stood above me, enormous, menacing--such a creatureas no nightmare had ever brought to my imagination. I have said thathe reared like a bear, and there was something bear-like--if one couldconceive a bear which was ten-fold the bulk of any bear seen uponearth--in his whole pose and attitude, in his great crooked forelegswith their ivory-white claws, in his rugged skin, and in his red, gapingmouth, fringed with monstrous fangs. Only in one point did he differfrom the bear, or from any other creature which walks the earth, andeven at that supreme moment a shudder of horror passed over me as Iobserved that the eyes which glistened in the glow of my lantern werehuge, projecting bulbs, white and sightless. For a moment his great pawsswung over my head. The next he fell forward upon me, I and my brokenlantern crashed to the earth, and I remember no more.

  When I came to myself I was back in the farm-house of the Allertons.Two days had passed since my terrible adventure in the Blue John Gap. Itseems that I had lain all night in the cave insensible from concussionof the brain, with my left arm and two ribs badly fractured. In themorning my note had been found, a search party of a dozen farmersassembled, and I had been tracked down and carried back to my bedroom,where I had lain in high delirium ever since. There was, it seems, nosign of the creature, and no bloodstain which would show that my bullethad found him as he passed. Save for my own plight and the marks uponthe mud, there was nothing to prove that what I said was true.

  Six weeks have now elapsed, and I am able to sit out once more in thesunshine. Just opposite me is the steep hillside, grey with shaly rock,and yonder on its flank is the dark cleft which marks the opening ofthe Blue John Gap. But it is no longer a source of terror. Never againthrough that ill-omened tunnel shall any strange shape flit out into theworld of men. The educated and the scientific, the Dr. Johnsons and thelike, may smile at my narrative, but the poorer folk of the countrysidehad never a doubt as to its truth. On the day after my recoveringconsciousness they assembled in their hundreds round the Blue John Gap.As the _Castleton Courier_ said:

  "It was useless for our correspondent, or for any of the adventurousgentlemen who had come from Matlock, Buxton, and other parts, to offerto descend, to explore the cave to the end, and to finally test theextraordinary narrative of Dr. James Hardcastle. The country people hadtaken the matter into their own hands, and from an early hour of themorning they had worked hard in stopping up the entrance of the tunnel.There is a sharp slope where the shaft begins, and great boulders,rolled along by many willing hands, were thrust down it until theGap was absolutely sealed. So ends the episode which has caused suchexcitement throughout the country. Local opinion is fiercelydivided upon the subject. On the one hand are those who point to Dr.Hardcastle's impaired health, and to the possibility of cerebral lesionsof tubercular origin giving rise to strange hallucinations. Some _ideefixe_, according to these gentlemen, caused the doctor to wander downthe tunnel, and a fall among the rocks was sufficient to account for hisinjuries. On the other hand, a legend of a strange creature in
theGap has existed for some months back, and the farmers look uponDr. Hardcastle's narrative and his personal injuries as a finalcorroboration. So the matter stands, and so the matter will continueto stand, for no definite solution seems to us to be now possible. Ittranscends human wit to give any scientific explanation which couldcover the alleged facts."

  Perhaps before the _Courier_ published these words they would have beenwise to send their representative to me. I have thought the matter out,as no one else has occasion to do, and it is possible that I mighthave removed some of the more obvious difficulties of the narrative andbrought it one degree nearer to scientific acceptance. Let me then writedown the only explanation which seems to me to elucidate what I know tomy cost to have been a series of facts. My theory may seem to bewildly improbable, but at least no one can venture to say that it isimpossible.

  My view is--and it was formed, as is shown by my diary, before mypersonal adventure--that in this part of England there is a vastsubterranean lake or sea, which is fed by the great number of streamswhich pass down through the limestone. Where there is a large collectionof water there must also be some evaporation, mists or rain, and apossibility of vegetation. This in turn suggests that there may beanimal life, arising, as the vegetable life would also do, from thoseseeds and types which had been introduced at an early period of theworld's history, when communication with the outer air was more easy.This place had then developed a fauna and flora of its own, includingsuch monsters as the one which I had seen, which may well have been theold cave-bear, enormously enlarged and modified by its new environment.For countless aeons the internal and the external creation had keptapart, growing steadily away from each other. Then there had come somerift in the depths of the mountain which had enabled one creature towander up and, by means of the Roman tunnel, to reach the open air. Likeall subterranean life, it had lost the power of sight, but this had nodoubt been compensated for by nature in other directions. Certainly ithad some means of finding its way about, and of hunting down the sheepupon the hillside. As to its choice of dark nights, it is part of mytheory that light was painful to those great white eyeballs, and that itwas only a pitch-black world which it could tolerate. Perhaps, indeed,it was the glare of my lantern which saved my life at that awful momentwhen we were face to face. So I read the riddle. I leave these factsbehind me, and if you can explain them, do so; or if you choose to doubtthem, do so. Neither your belief nor your incredulity can alter them,nor affect one whose task is nearly over.

  So ended the strange narrative of Dr. James Hardcastle.