THE DAMNED THING By Ambrose Bierce Reprinted by permission. From "In the Midst of Life, " copyright, 1898, by G. P. Putnam's Sons I By THE light of a tallow candle, which had been placed on one end of arough table, a man was reading something written in a book. It was anold account book, greatly worn; and the writing was not, apparently, very legible, for the man sometimes held the page close to the flame ofthe candle to get a stronger light upon it. The shadow of the book wouldthen throw into obscurity a half of the room, darkening a number offaces and figures; for besides the reader, eight other men were present. Seven of them sat against the rough log walls, silent and motionless, and, the room being small, not very far from the table. By extending anarm any one of them could have touched the eighth man, who lay on thetable, face upward, partly covered by a sheet, his arms at his sides. Hewas dead. The man with the book was not reading aloud, and no one spoke; allseemed to be waiting for something to occur; the dead man only waswithout expectation. From the blank darkness outside came in, throughthe aperture that served for a window, all the ever unfamiliar noisesof night in the wilderness--the long, nameless note of a distant coyote;the stilly pulsing thrill of tireless insects in trees; strange cries ofnight birds, so different from those of the birds of day; the drone ofgreat blundering beetles, and all that mysterious chorus of small soundsthat seem always to have been but half heard when they have suddenlyceased, as if conscious of an indiscretion. But nothing of all this wasnoted in that company; its members were not overmuch addicted to idleinterest in matters of no practical importance; that was obvious inevery line of their rugged faces--obvious even in the dim light of thesingle candle. They were evidently men of the vicinity--farmers andwoodmen. The person reading was a trifle different; one would have said of himthat he was of the world, worldly, albeit there was that in hisattire which attested a certain fellowship with the organisms of hisenvironment. His coat would hardly have passed muster in San Francisco:his footgear was not of urban origin, and the hat that lay by him onthe floor (he was the only one uncovered) was such that if one hadconsidered it as an article of mere personal adornment he would havemissed its meaning. In countenance the man was rather prepossessing, with just a hint of sternness; though that he may have assumed orcultivated, as appropriate to one in authority. For he was a coroner. Itwas by virtue of his office that he had possession of the book in whichhe was reading; it had been found among the dead man's effects--in hiscabin, where the inquest was now taking place. When the coroner had finished reading he put the book into his breastpocket. At that moment the door was pushed open and a young man entered. He, clearly, was not of mountain birth and breeding: he was clad asthose who dwell in cities. His clothing was dusty, however, as fromtravel. He had, in fact, been riding hard to attend the inquest. The coroner nodded; no one else greeted him. "We have waited for you, " said the coroner. "It is necessary to havedone with this business to-night. " The young man smiled. "I am sorry to have kept you, " he said. "I wentaway, not to evade your summons, but to post to my newspaper an accountof what I suppose I am called back to relate. " The coroner smiled. "The account that you posted to your newspaper, " he said, "differsprobably from that which you will give here under oath. " "That, " replied the other, rather hotly and with a visible flush, "is asyou choose. I used manifold paper and have a copy of what I sent. It wasnot written as news, for it is incredible, but as fiction. It may go asa part of my testimony under oath. " "But you say it is incredible. " "That is nothing to you, sir, if I also swear that it is true. " The coroner was apparently not greatly affected by the young man'smanifest resentment. He was silent for some moments, his eyes upon thefloor. The men about the sides of the cabin talked in whispers, butseldom withdrew their gaze from the face of the corpse. Presently thecoroner lifted his eyes and said: "We will resume the inquest. " The men removed their hats. The witness was sworn. "What is your name?" the coroner asked. "William Harker. " "Age?" "Twenty-seven. " "You knew the deceased, Hugh Morgan?" "Yes. " "You were with him when he died?" "Near him. " "How did that happen--your presence, I mean?" "I was visiting him at this place to shoot and fish. A part of mypurpose, however, was to study him, and his odd, solitary way of life. He seemed a good model for a character in fiction. I sometimes writestories. " "I sometimes read them. " "Thank you. " "Stories in general--not yours. " Some of the jurors laughed. Against a sombre background humor shows highlights. Soldiers in the intervals of battle laugh easily, and a jest inthe death chamber conquers by surprise. "Relate the circumstances of this man's death, " said the coroner. "Youmay use any notes or memoranda that you please. " The witness understood. Pulling a manuscript from his breast pockethe held it near the candle, and turning the leaves until he found thepassage that he wanted, began to read. II ". .. The sun had hardly risen when we left the house. We were looking forquail, each with a shotgun, but we had only one dog. Morgan said thatour best ground was beyond a certain ridge that he pointed out, and wecrossed it by a trail through the _chaparral_. On the other side wascomparatively level ground, thickly covered with wild oats. As weemerged from the _chaparral_, Morgan was but a few yards in advance. Suddenly, we heard, at a little distance to our right, and partly infront, a noise as of some animal thrashing about in the bushes, which wecould see were violently agitated. "'We've started a deer, ' said. 'I wish we had brought a rifle. ' "Morgan, who had stopped and was intently watching the agitatedchaparral, said nothing, but had cocked both barrels of his gun, and washolding it in readiness to aim. I thought him a trifle excited, whichsurprised me, for he had a reputation for exceptional coolness, even inmoments of sudden and imminent peril. "'O, come!' I said. 'You are not going to fill up a deer withquail-shot, are you?' "Still he did not reply; but, catching a sight of his face as heturned it slightly toward me, I was struck by the pallor of it. Then Iunderstood that we had serious business on hand, and my first conjecturewas that we had 'jumped' a grizzly. I advanced to Morgan's side, cockingmy piece as I moved. "The bushes were now quiet, and the sounds had ceased, but Morgan was asattentive to the place as before. "'What is it? What the devil is it?' I asked. "'That Damned Thing!' he replied, without turning his head. His voicewas husky and unnatural. He trembled visibly. "I was about to speak further, when I observed the wild oats near theplace of the disturbance moving in the most inexplicable way. I canhardly describe it. It seemed as if stirred by a streak of wind, whichnot only bent it, but pressed it down--crushed it so that it did notrise, and this movement was slowly prolonging itself directly toward us. "Nothing that I had ever seen had affected me so strangely as thisunfamiliar and unaccountable phenomenon, yet I am unable to recall anysense of fear. I remember--and tell it here because, singularly enough, I recollected it then--that once, in looking carelessly out of an openwindow, I momentarily mistook a small tree close at hand for one of agroup of larger trees at a little distance away. It looked the same sizeas the others, but, being more distinctly and sharply defined in massand detail, seemed out of harmony with them. It was a mere falsificationof the law of aerial perspective, but it startled, almost terrified me. We so rely upon the orderly operation of familiar natural laws that anyseeming suspension of them is noted as a menace to our safety, a warningof unthinkable calamity. So now the apparently causeless movement of theherbage, and the slow, undeviating approach of the line of disturbancewere distinctly disquieting. My companion appeared actually frightened, and I could hardly credit my senses when I saw him suddenly throw hisgun to his shoulders and fire both barrels at the agitated grass! Beforethe smoke of the discharge had cleared away I heard a loud savagecry--a scream like that of a wild animal--and, flinging his gun upon theground, Morgan sprang away and ran swiftly from the spot. At the sameinstant I was thrown violently to the ground by the impact of somethingunseen in the smoke--some soft, heavy substance that seemed thrownagainst me with great force. "Before I could get upon my feet and recover my gun, which seemed tohave been struck from my hands, I heard Morgan crying out as if inmortal agony, and mingling with his cries were such hoarse savage soundsas one hears from fighting dogs. Inexpressibly terrified, I struggled tomy feet and looked in the direction of Morgan's retreat; and may heavenin mercy spare me from another sight like that! At a distance of lessthan thirty yards was my friend, down upon one knee, his head thrownback at a frightful angle, hatless, his long hair in disorder and hiswhole body in violent movement from side to side, backward and forward. His right arm was lifted and seemed to lack the hand--at least, Icould see none. The other arm was invisible. At times, as my memorynow reports this extraordinary scene, I could discern but a part of hisbody; it was as if he had been partly blotted out--I can not otherwiseexpress it--then a shifting of his position would bring it all into viewagain. "All this must have occurred within a few seconds, yet in that timeMorgan assumed all the postures of a determined wrestler vanquished bysuperior weight and strength. I saw nothing but him, and him not alwaysdistinctly. During the entire incident his shouts and curses were heard, as if through an enveloping uproar of such sounds of rage and fury as Ihad never heard from the throat of man or brute! "For a moment only I stood irresolute, then, throwing down my gun, Iran forward to my friend's assistance. I had a vague belief that he wassuffering from a fit or some form of convulsion. Before I could reachhis side he was down and quiet. All sounds had ceased, but, with afeeling of such terror as even these awful events had not inspired, Inow saw the same mysterious movement of the wild oats prolonging itselffrom the trampled area about the prostrate man toward the edge ofa wood. It was only when it had reached the wood that I was able towithdraw my eyes and look at my companion. He was dead. " III The coroner rose from his seat and stood beside the dead man. Liftingan edge of the sheet he pulled it away, exposing the entire body, altogether naked and showing in the candle light a clay-like yellow. Ithad, however, broad maculations of bluish-black, obviously caused byextravasated blood from contusions. The chest and sides looked as ifthey 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 silkhandkerchief, which had been passed under the chin and knotted on thetop of the head. When the handkerchief was drawn away it exposed whathad been the throat. Some of the jurors who had risen to get a betterview repented their curiosity, and turned away their faces. WitnessHarker went to the open window and leaned out across the sill, faint andsick. Dropping the handkerchief upon the dead man's neck, the coronerstepped to an angle of the room, and from a pile of clothing producedone garment after another, each of which he held up a moment forinspection. All were torn, and stiff with blood. The jurors did notmake a closer inspection. They seemed rather uninterested. They had, intruth, seen all this before; the only thing that was new to them beingHarker's testimony. "Gentlemen, " the coroner said, "we have no more evidence, I think. Yourduty has been already explained to you; if there is nothing you wish toask 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 asylumdid this yer last witness escape from?" "Mr. Harker, " said the coroner, gravely and tranquilly, "from whatasylum did you last escape?" Harker flushed crimson again, but said nothing, and the seven jurorsrose and solemnly filed out of the cabin. "If you have done insulting me, sir, " said Harker, as soon as he and theofficer were left alone with the dead man, "I suppose I am at liberty togo?" "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 senseof personal dignity. He turned about and said: "The book that you have there--I recognize it as Morgan's diary. Youseemed 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 madebefore the writer's death. " As Harker passed out of the house the jury reentered and stood about thetable on which the now covered corpse showed under the sheet with sharpdefinition. The foreman seated himself near the candle, producedfrom his breast pocket a pencil and scrap of paper, and wrote ratherlaboriously the following verdict, which with various degrees of effortall signed: "We, the jury, do find that the remains come to their death at the handsof 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 entrieshaving, possibly, a scientific value as suggestions. At the inquest uponhis body the book was not put in evidence; possibly the coroner thoughtit not worth while to confuse the jury. The date of the first of theentries mentioned can not be ascertained; the upper part of the leaf istorn away; the part of the entry remaining is as follows: ". .. Would run in a half circle, keeping his head turned always towardthe centre and again he would stand still, barking furiously. At last heran away into the brush as fast as he could go. I thought at first thathe had gone mad, but on returning to the house found no other alterationin his manner than what was obviously due to fear of punishment. "Can a dog see with his nose? Do odors impress some olfactory centrewith images of the thing emitting them? . . . "Sept 2. --Looking at the stars last night as they rose above thecrest of the ridge east of the house, I observed them successivelydisappear--from left to right. Each was eclipsed but an instant, andonly a few at the same time, but along the entire length of the ridgeall that were within a degree or two of the crest were blotted out. Itwas as if something had passed along between me and them; but I couldnot see it, and the stars were not thick enough to define its outline. Ugh! I don't like this. . . . " Several weeks' entries are missing, three leaves being torn from thebook. "Sept. 27. --It has been about here again--I find evidences of itspresence every day. I watched again all of last night in the same cover, gun in hand, double-charged with buckshot. In the morning the freshfootprints were there, as before. Yet I would have sworn that I did notsleep--indeed, I hardly sleep at all. It is terrible, insupportable! Ifthese amazing experiences are real I shall go mad; if they are fancifulI am mad already. "Oct. 3. --I shall not go--it shall not drive me away. No, this is _my_house, my land. God hates a coward. .. . "Oct. 5. --I can stand it no longer; I have invited Harker to pass a fewweeks with me--he has a level head. I can judge from his manner if hethinks me mad. "Oct. 7. --I have the solution of the problem; it came to me lastnight--suddenly, as by revelation. How simple--how terribly simple! "There are sounds that we can not hear. At either end of the scale arenotes that stir no chord of that imperfect instrument, the human ear. They are too high or too grave. I have observed a flock of blackbirdsoccupying an entire treetop--the tops of several trees--and all in fullsong. Suddenly--in a moment--at absolutely the same instant--allspring into the air and fly away. How? They could not all see oneanother--whole treetops intervened. At no point could a leader have beenvisible to all. There must have been a signal of warning or command, high and shrill above the din, but by me unheard. I have observed, too, the same simultaneous flight when all were silent, among not onlyblackbirds, but other birds--quail, for example, widely separated bybushes--even on opposite sides of a hill. "It is known to seamen that a school of whales basking or sporting onthe surface of the ocean, miles apart, with the convexity of the earthbetween them, will sometimes dive at the same instant--all gone out ofsight in a moment. The signal has been sounded--too grave for the earof the sailor at the masthead and his comrades on the deck--whonevertheless feel its vibrations in the ship as the stones of acathedral are stirred by the bass of the organ. "As with sounds, so with colors. At each end of the solar spectrum thechemist can detect the presence of what are known as 'actinic'rays. They represent colors--integral colors in the composition oflight--which we are unable to discern. The human eye is an imperfectinstrument; its range is but a few octaves of the real 'chromatic scale'I am not mad; there are colors that we can not see. "And, God help me! the Damned Thing is of such a color!"