Chapter Seventy Four.
A Solitary Stalker.
The singular spectacle described—extraordinary it might be termed—was too grave to appear grotesque. There was some thing about it that savoured of the outre-monde. Human eyes could not have beholden it, without the shivering of a human frame, and the chilling of human blood.
Was it seen by human eyes in this fresh phase—with the wolves below, and the vultures above?
It was.
By one pair; and they belonging to the only man in all Texas who had arrived at something like a comprehension of the all-perplexing mystery.
It was not yet altogether clear to him. There were points that still puzzled him. He but know it was neither a dummy, nor the Devil.
His knowledge did not except him from the universal feeling of dread. Despite the understanding of what the thing was, he shuddered as he gazed upon it.