THE ESCAPE OF THE DEAD
A sense of delicious dreaminess overcame
me, my muscles relaxed, and I was on the point of
giving way to my desire to sleep when the sound of
approaching horses reached my ears. I attempted
to spring to my feet but was horrified to discover
that my muscles refused to respond to my will.
I was now thoroughly awake, but as unable to move
a muscle as though turned to stone. It was then,
for the first time, that I noticed a slight vapor
filling the cave. It was extremely tenuous and
only noticeable against the opening which led to daylight.
There also came to my nostrils a faintly pungent odor,
and I could only assume that I had been overcome by
some poisonous gas, but why I should retain my mental
faculties and yet be unable to move I could not fathom.
I lay facing the opening of the cave
and where I could see the short stretch of trail which
lay between the cave and the turn of the cliff around
which the trail led. The noise of the approaching
horses had ceased, and I judged the Indians were creeping
stealthily upon me along the little ledge which led
to my living tomb. I remember that I hoped they
would make short work of me as I did not particularly
relish the thought of the innumerable things they might
do to me if the spirit prompted them.
I had not long to wait before a stealthy
sound apprised me of their nearness, and then a war-bonneted,
paint-streaked face was thrust cautiously around the
shoulder of the cliff, and savage eyes looked into
mine. That he could see me in the dim light of
the cave I was sure for the early morning sun was
falling full upon me through the opening.
The fellow, instead of approaching,
merely stood and stared; his eyes bulging and his
jaw dropped. And then another savage face appeared,
and a third and fourth and fifth, craning their necks
over the shoulders of their fellows whom they could
not pass upon the narrow ledge. Each face was
the picture of awe and fear, but for what reason I
did not know, nor did I learn until ten years later.
That there were still other braves behind those who
regarded me was apparent from the fact that the leaders
passed back whispered word to those behind them.
Suddenly a low but distinct moaning
sound issued from the recesses of the cave behind
me, and, as it reached the ears of the Indians, they
turned and fled in terror, panic-stricken. So
frantic were their efforts to escape from the unseen
thing behind me that one of the braves was hurled
headlong from the cliff to the rocks below. Their
wild cries echoed in the canyon for a short time, and
then all was still once more.
The sound which had frightened them
was not repeated, but it had been sufficient as it
was to start me speculating on the possible horror
which lurked in the shadows at my back. Fear
is a relative term and so I can only measure my feelings
at that time by what I had experienced in previous
positions of danger and by those that I have passed
through since; but I can say without shame that if
the sensations I endured during the next few minutes
were fear, then may God help the coward, for cowardice
is of a surety its own punishment.
To be held paralyzed, with one’s
back toward some horrible and unknown danger from
the very sound of which the ferocious Apache warriors
turn in wild stampede, as a flock of sheep would madly
flee from a pack of wolves, seems to me the last word
in fearsome predicaments for a man who had ever been
used to fighting for his life with all the energy
of a powerful physique.
Several times I thought I heard faint
sounds behind me as of somebody moving cautiously,
but eventually even these ceased, and I was left to
the contemplation of my position without interruption.
I could but vaguely conjecture the cause of my paralysis,
and my only hope lay in that it might pass off as
suddenly as it had fallen upon me.
Late in the afternoon my horse, which
had been standing with dragging rein before the cave,
started slowly down the trail, evidently in search
of food and water, and I was left alone with my mysterious
unknown companion and the dead body of my friend,
which lay just within my range of vision upon the ledge
where I had placed it in the early morning.
From then until possibly midnight
all was silence, the silence of the dead; then, suddenly,
the awful moan of the morning broke upon my startled
ears, and there came again from the black shadows the
sound of a moving thing, and a faint rustling as of
dead leaves. The shock to my already overstrained
nervous system was terrible in the extreme, and with
a superhuman effort I strove to break my awful bonds.
It was an effort of the mind, of the will, of the
nerves; not muscular, for I could not move even so
much as my little finger, but none the less mighty
for all that. And then something gave, there
was a momentary feeling of nausea, a sharp click as
of the snapping of a steel wire, and I stood with
my back against the wall of the cave facing my unknown
foe.
And then the moonlight flooded the
cave, and there before me lay my own body as it had
been lying all these hours, with the eyes staring
toward the open ledge and the hands resting limply
upon the ground. I looked first at my lifeless
clay there upon the floor of the cave and then down
at myself in utter bewilderment; for there I lay clothed,
and yet here I stood but naked as at the minute of
my birth.
The transition had been so sudden
and so unexpected that it left me for a moment forgetful
of aught else than my strange metamorphosis.
My first thought was, is this then death! Have
I indeed passed over forever into that other life!
But I could not well believe this, as I could feel
my heart pounding against my ribs from the exertion
of my efforts to release myself from the anaesthesis
which had held me. My breath was coming in quick,
short gasps, cold sweat stood out from every pore
of my body, and the ancient experiment of pinching
revealed the fact that I was anything other than a
wraith.
Again was I suddenly recalled to my
immediate surroundings by a repetition of the weird
moan from the depths of the cave. Naked and
unarmed as I was, I had no desire to face the unseen
thing which menaced me.
My revolvers were strapped to my lifeless
body which, for some unfathomable reason, I could
not bring myself to touch. My carbine was in
its boot, strapped to my saddle, and as my horse had
wandered off I was left without means of defense.
My only alternative seemed to lie in flight and my
decision was crystallized by a recurrence of the rustling
sound from the thing which now seemed, in the darkness
of the cave and to my distorted imagination, to be
creeping stealthily upon me.
Unable longer to resist the temptation
to escape this horrible place I leaped quickly through
the opening into the starlight of a clear Arizona
night. The crisp, fresh mountain air outside
the cave acted as an immediate tonic and I felt new
life and new courage coursing through me. Pausing
upon the brink of the ledge I upbraided myself for
what now seemed to me wholly unwarranted apprehension.
I reasoned with myself that I had lain helpless for
many hours within the cave, yet nothing had molested
me, and my better judgment, when permitted the direction
of clear and logical reasoning, convinced me that
the noises I had heard must have resulted from purely
natural and harmless causes; probably the conformation
of the cave was such that a slight breeze had caused
the sounds I heard.
I decided to investigate, but first
I lifted my head to fill my lungs with the pure, invigorating
night air of the mountains. As I did so I saw
stretching far below me the beautiful vista of rocky
gorge, and level, cacti-studded flat, wrought by the
moonlight into a miracle of soft splendor and wondrous
enchantment.
Few western wonders are more inspiring
than the beauties of an Arizona moonlit landscape;
the silvered mountains in the distance, the strange
lights and shadows upon hog back and arroyo, and the
grotesque details of the stiff, yet beautiful cacti
form a picture at once enchanting and inspiring; as
though one were catching for the first time a glimpse
of some dead and forgotten world, so different is
it from the aspect of any other spot upon our earth.
As I stood thus meditating, I turned
my gaze from the landscape to the heavens where the
myriad stars formed a gorgeous and fitting canopy
for the wonders of the earthly scene. My attention
was quickly riveted by a large red star close to the
distant horizon. As I gazed upon it I felt a
spell of overpowering fascination—it was
Mars, the god of war, and for me, the fighting man,
it had always held the power of irresistible enchantment.
As I gazed at it on that far-gone night it seemed
to call across the unthinkable void, to lure me to
it, to draw me as the lodestone attracts a particle
of iron.
My longing was beyond the power of
opposition; I closed my eyes, stretched out my arms
toward the god of my vocation and felt myself drawn
with the suddenness of thought through the trackless
immensity of space. There was an instant of
extreme cold and utter darkness.