The Peril Finders

by George Manville Fenn

Chris did not know why it was—the doctor told him afterwards—but he began to dream soon afterwards of rattlesnakes. Not of such as he had seen on the rocky slope, the largest of which did not exceed six feet in length, but of dreamland rattlesnakes, monsters of twenty feet long, and with bony tails which kept up a constant whirr previous to their owners striking at that which they meant to destroy.

It was evident in the dream that they did not mean to destroy him, for though they hovered over him with their heads playing up and down upon their elastic necks, while their eyes glittered and their forked tongues darted in and out of the opening in their jaws, they did not strike, only kept him in a state of horror and suspense, till they made way for one of the porcupines that had been named at supper-time. This came quietly up to the foot of his bed, and walked up from his boots to his knees, with its black and white quills lying down as smoothly as if they formed so much excessively coarse hair. But then as the creature continued its walk, to be soon upon the boy’s chest, it seemed to get into a violent passion, setting up its quills at all angles and rattling them together till it seemed about to dash at him. But instead of doing anything obnoxious it suddenly disappeared before the advance of a skunk, which came trotting up his body from his feet, just after the same fashion as the porcupine, but looking fiercely aggressive, in spite of the beauty of its clean, glossy, black and white fur. Its eyes gleamed and sparkled; it showed its glistening sharp white teeth, and waving its erect tail, which curved over its back like a squirrel’s, it twitched in the same way, and seemed every moment about to make a rush at the boy’s face to inflict one of its dangerously poisonous bites, while the twitching tail threatened the discharge of the horribly offensive fluid which will send a determined dog yelling plaintively, as, completely cowed, it beats a retreat.

It seemed an hour of expectancy for what did not come off, and all the time the sleeper lay half-conscious in the painful experience, telling himself that it was all fancy, for it was only a dream.

This was just as he was about to recover full consciousness, for the skunk gradually died away from where it had seemed to be standing upon his chest, and Chris lay wide awake with his heart beating, painfully wide awake now, and with every nerve on the strain, as he listened and tried to make out the meaning of a strange heavy breathing mingled with a sniffing, snuffling which came from somewhere at the back of his head.

Chris’s first thought was of springing up out of the trough-like bed-place he had selected and escaping by the foot; but before he could put this into effect there was a rustling sound on the big piece of rock he had jammed in behind his head, and though he could see nothing he could feel that something had stepped up on to the stone and was bending over him; the snuffling breathing grew louder, and, to his horror, he felt a puff of hot breath full in his face.

There was no springing up now. An icy feeling chilled him, and he lay perfectly motionless, unable to stir, and feeling as if he had suddenly sunk into another dream—a nightmare this, by which he was completely fettered.

His rifle lay on one side, loaded; his revolver was on the other, and within reach of his hand; but he could not lift a finger, only stare upward with his eyes fixed upon the stars, which now seemed to be eclipsed by something dark passing between his face and them and remaining perfectly motionless for a few seconds. Then it passed onward and he could see the stars again, conscious the while that whatever the creature might be that had visited him it was now standing or sitting upon the long rock, to his left, breathing hard, with its head very near his own, and that, apparently dissatisfied with its position, or uneasy, it raised itself up and stepped over to the other side of the bed, forming what looked faintly like a black arch before the hind-legs followed the fore and it began to shuffle about uneasily upon the rock to the boy’s right. Then there was a scraping sound, and something fell with a thump on to the listener’s chest and slipped down between the rock and his ribs.

Chris’s heart had ceased its heavy beating, but at this point it gave a tremendous bound which seemed to give him a momentary feeling of resolution and strength; but momentary only. He could not stir even now, only think, and listen to the creature upon the rock as it uttered a peculiar whining sound, followed by a deep grunt.

Then all was still, as if the animal had been slightly alarmed and was now listening.

“If I stir,” thought Chris—for he knew what his visitant must be—“if I stir it will seize me with its claws and bury its teeth in my throat. Oh, it is hard!”