The Hound From The North

by Ridgwell Cullum

The hound limped along beside its master’s horse as they plunged into the deep woods of the Owl Hoot Valley. Nor did he show the least sign of wishing to wander from “heel.” He followed on the beaten track, stubbornly keeping pace with the horse in spite of the fact of only possessing three legs.

Arrived at the ranch Hervey handed over his horse to Chintz and proceeded into the woods on foot. To-day he meant to move out in a new direction. The valley beyond the Haunted Hill had been done regularly by him; now he was intent upon the hills on the south. Access to this region was obtained by the one other practicable exit from the valley; namely, the Haunted Hill, and then by bearing away to the right. He breasted the steep slopes of the hill and soon came upon the narrow 191 overgrown trail which at some period had been hewn by the early settlers of the district.

Here he tramped along steadily, the hound limping at his heels. He walked slowly, with that long, lazy gait of a man accustomed to walking great distances. He gave little heed to his surroundings as far as the beauties of the place were concerned. He was not the man to regard Nature’s handiwork in the light of artistic effects. His great roving eyes were never still; they moved swiftly from side to side, eagerly watching for the indication of game either furred or feathered. It seemed as though this sport was as the breath of life to him. Now and again his gaze would turn upon the hound behind him, and, on these occasions, the movement was evidently the result of some sudden, unpleasant thought, and had nothing to do with the sportsman’s watchfulness which makes him seek to discover, in the alert canine attitude, some keener instinct of the presence of game than is possessed by the human being.

Almost without forewarning the road, after rounding an abrupt bend, suddenly opened out on to the graveyard clearing. It was the first time in Hervey’s many wanderings in these regions that he had actually come across this obscure little cemetery. For a moment, as he gazed upon it, he hardly realized what it was. Then, as he noted the ruined hut in the middle, the wooden fencing broken and tumbled about the place, and the armless and sadly leaning crosses and the various-shaped slabs of stone which marked the graves, he remembered the weird story his sister and her friend had told, and, advancing, 192 he leant upon one of the fence posts and looked about him curiously.

He stood for some moments quite still. The place was silent with the peaceful calm of a sweltering August day. Hervey’s eyes moved from one vaguely outlined grave to another, and unconsciously he counted them. Thirteen graves in all were visible amongst the long grass. Then his eyes turned upon the ruined hut. The roof had fallen in, and broken rafters protruded above the still standing walls of pine logs. The casing of the doorway remained, but the door had gone, and in its place hung a piece of tattered sacking. There was one small window, but this had been boarded over. The building was largely covered with lichen, and weeds had grown out of the mud-filling daubed in between the logs. There was something very desolate but wondrously peaceful about the place.

The master’s curiosity seemed to have communicated itself to the hound, for the animal slowly, and with uncertain tread, moved off within the enclosure. Neche’s movements were furtive; strangely so. But though Hervey’s eyes now followed the dog’s actions, it was merely the result of the attraction of the one moving object within the range of his vision, and not with any purpose of his own. In fact, it is doubtful if, at first, the animal’s movements conveyed any meaning to the watching man. The moments slipped away and the dog snuffed inquiringly at the various curious objects its wolfish eyes beheld.

It stretched out its neck across one grave and snuffed at the projecting arm of a wooden cross. 193 Then it drew back sharply with its little upstanding ears twitching with a motion of attention and canine uncertainty. Then the wolf head was turned in the direction of its master, and its unblinking gaze was fixed upon his face. The animal stood thus with ears constantly moving, turning this way and that, listening for any strange sound that might chance upon the air. Then with a dignified movement, so expressive of ill-concealed curiosity, it turned away to continue investigations in other directions.

The dog’s show of indifference only lasted for a moment. In limping towards the central hut the animal stepped on to the only path which was not overgrown with rank vegetation. The instant its foot touched the sandy soil its head went down until its nose touched the ground. Then followed a loud snuff. The dog’s great mane bristled ominously, and a low growl sounded significantly upon the still air. Now Hervey’s gaze instantly became one of keen intelligence. His thoughts no longer wandered, but were of the present. He watched the movements of the hound with the profoundest interest.

The dog moved a step or two forward. Its attitude was as though it wished to make no mistake. The snuffing came short, quick and incisive. Then the great head was raised, and the snuffing continued upon the air. Now the nose turned in the direction of the hut, then it turned back to the opposite direction of the path. Hervey remained motionless where he stood, and his thoughts were filled with wondering speculation.

Suddenly the dog darted off down the path, away from the hut. There was something very like the 194 sleuth in its attitude. Nor did it pause until the path terminated at a stone-covered grave. Here the brute’s eagerness was displayed to the full. Its excitement was intense. The low growls became more frequent and tense. The bristling mane, so thick and wolfish, fairly quivered in its rigidity. Balancing itself on its one hind foot it tore away at the baked earth around the stone with its huge fore-paws, as though it would tear up the whole grave and lay bare the mouldering bones it contained.