Tales of the Wonder Club, Volume I

by M. Y. Halidom

"Surely some madman," thought I, "tired of his life."

Every moment I expected to see his foot slip and to hear a splash in the lake below; but no, the being, whatever it was, crawled steadily upwards like a huge spider, till it gained the summit of the cliff. I then lost sight of it. A few steps further on led me to the spot the climber had reached, when soon among the lengthened shadows of the pines, I descried a shadow which was not that of a tree.

I approached, and as the moon lit up the object in my path, I beheld a sight that made my blood freeze to look upon. It was one of those hideous crêtins which inhabit the valleys of all mountainous countries.

I started, and the idiot, who gazed at me vacantly at first, seemed to have sense enough to be aware of the impression he had made, and to take a fiendish delight in the effect that he had produced. The aspect of this being was the most frightful of anything I had ever seen in human shape. He could not have exceeded four feet in height, but the breadth of his shoulders was such as to make his figure a complete square. His neck was short, and his head, which was enormous, was covered over with scant sandy hair. The complexion was ghastly; the lips thin and livid, the nose flat and spreading, and the eyes, which were an immense distance apart, pale green and fishy; the face was round and broad, and though generally idiotic in expression, was lit up at times with a look of intelligence, mixed with the most preternatural cunning and malignity. The muscular development of the upper part of this strange figure was prodigious, and the arms were so long that the fingers all but touched the ground, but the legs were extremely short and misshapen, the feet being monstrous. His back was round as a camel's, and from his throat down to his waist hung a huge goître, which gave a still more disgusting look to his tout ensemble; added to this, his ears were large and shaggy, his fingers short and stunted, the palms of his hands hard and horny. He was dressed after the usual fashion of the Swiss peasantry in that part of Switzerland, but his clothes were so patched and tattered, that the masterpiece was barely discernible.

I gazed for some moments in silent horror at the spectacle before me, when the monster blocking up my path clapped his hands suddenly on his thighs, and burst into a loud discordant laugh, exhibiting two rows of black, uneven teeth. My blood curdled as the echo of those fiendish tones broke on my ear. I recoiled, but, mastering my fear, I said in his own native tongue—or, rather, in better German than is spoken among the peasantry—"Well, my friend, does my appearance amuse you? Are strangers so rare in your country that they are found worthy of so much notice?"

The idiot gazed at me awhile with vacant stare, then pointed to his mouth, to signify that he was dumb.

"Poor wretch," I muttered to myself; "and yet he seems to understand a little."

I thought I would ask him by signs where he lived. I read by his eye, which suddenly grew intelligent, much to my surprise, that he understood my question, and he answered by gestures, which seemed to say, "My home is here, there, and everywhere. On the black mountain top, in the pine forest, by the still lake—anywhere where there is earth and sky."

"Poor wanderer," thought I; "houseless, like myself, and yet how infinitely more contented. Who knows but that that stunted form may contain the soul of a philosopher." "Idiot," I said, with all possible meekness in my outward bearing, "I am hungry. Can you lead me to a châlet where I may get food and shelter?"

He nodded his head.