But, there was the disappearance of Margaret Kingsley. That was difficult to explain away. A normal, healthy young woman walks out into the night and is never seen again!
Hunters accustomed to trailing animals and Indians utterly failed in their efforts to find her, or to track this evil monster to its lair. Often its spoor was plainly marked—a four-toed foot of unfamiliar shape. Bloodhounds had been brought from a distant settlement; but, as with the human hunters, the trail ended at the base of a huge white-oak tree. There the dogs looked up and whined; they could follow the scent no further.
Along with fairy tales, and stories of grim giants, told to me in childhood days, these stories of the Thunder Voice might have passed into hazy forgetfulness, but for a grisly reminder which occurred while I was studying to become a physician.
In the college I found much interest in visiting the library and poring over bound volumes of The Medical Journal. Some of these dated back to many years before my birth.
It was while reading one of these that I suddenly started into quickened interest at sight of a familiar name—Bartien Delloux!
For a few moments I could not recall where I had heard the name, and then came back to me my grandfather’s stories. I pictured again, as I had often done before, the log cabin peopled with sympathetic neighbors come to console Bartien Delloux. The dead body of his wife in an adjoining room. The dull rumble of distant thunder, with now and again flashes of lightning. And then, suddenly, from out the black night—The Thunder Voice!
It was he—the same Bartien Delloux—his name handed down on these age-brown pages in a history of most unusual kind.
A physician had told the tale in plain matter-of-fact language. Briefly it was as follows:
A patient, who said his name was Bartien Delloux, lay dying in a charity hospital. He asked for a priest. The priest remained with him until he died. Then, coming to the doctor, the priest had remarked:
“I think that man’s story is of more concern to your profession than to mine. I’m sorry you didn’t hear it.”