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  The Terror of Blue John Gap

  The following narrative was found among the papers of Dr. JamesHardcastle, who died of phthisis on February 4th, 1908, at 36, UpperCoventry Flats, South Kensington. Those who knew him best, whilerefusing to express an opinion upon this particular statement, areunanimous in asserting that he was a man of a sober and scientific turnof mind, absolutely devoid of imagination, and most unlikely to inventany abnormal series of events. The paper was contained in an envelope,which was docketed, "A Short Account of the Circumstances whichoccurred near Miss Allerton's Farm in North-West Derbyshire in theSpring of Last Year." The envelope was sealed, and on the other sidewas written in pencil--

  DEAR SEATON,--

  "It may interest, and perhaps pain you, to know that the incredulitywith which you met my story has prevented me from ever opening my mouthupon the subject again. I leave this record after my death, andperhaps strangers may be found to have more confidence in me than myfriend."

  Inquiry has failed to elicit who this Seaton may have been. I may addthat the visit of the deceased to Allerton's Farm, and the generalnature of the alarm there, apart from his particular explanation, havebeen absolutely established. With this foreword I append his accountexactly as he left it. It is in the form of a diary, some entries inwhich have been expanded, while a few have been erased.

  April 17.--Already I feel the benefit of this wonderful upland air.The farm of the Allertons lies fourteen hundred and twenty feet abovesea-level, so it may well be a bracing climate. Beyond the usualmorning cough I have very little discomfort, and, what with the freshmilk and the home-grown mutton, I have every chance of putting onweight. I think Saunderson will be pleased.

  The two Miss Allertons are charmingly quaint and kind, two dear littlehard-working old maids, who are ready to lavish all the heart whichmight have gone out to husband and to children upon an invalidstranger. Truly, the old maid is a most useful person, one of thereserve forces of the community. They talk of the superfluous woman,but what would the poor superfluous man do without her kindly presence?By the way, in their simplicity they very quickly let out the reasonwhy Saunderson recommended their farm. The Professor rose from theranks himself, and I believe that in his youth he was not above scaringcrows in these very fields.

  It is a most lonely spot, and the walks are picturesque in the extreme.The farm consists of grazing land lying at the bottom of an irregularvalley. On each side are the fantastic limestone hills, formed of rockso soft that you can break it away with your hands. All this countryis hollow. Could you strike it with some gigantic hammer it would boomlike a drum, or possibly cave in altogether and expose some hugesubterranean sea. A great sea there must surely be, for on all sidesthe streams run into the mountain itself, never to reappear. There aregaps everywhere amid the rocks, and when you pass through them you findyourself in great caverns, which wind down into the bowels of theearth. I have a small bicycle lamp, and it is a perpetual joy to me tocarry it into these weird solitudes, and to see the wonderful silverand black effect when I throw its light upon the stalactites whichdrape the lofty roofs. Shut off the lamp, and you are in the blackestdarkness. Turn it on, and it is a scene from the Arabian Nights.

  But there is one of these strange openings in the earth which has aspecial interest, for it is the handiwork, not of nature, but of man.I had never heard of Blue John when I came to these parts. It is thename given to a peculiar mineral of a beautiful purple shade, which isonly found at one or two places in the world. It is so rare that anordinary vase of Blue John would be valued at a great price. TheRomans, with that extraordinary instinct of theirs, discovered that itwas to be found in this valley, and sank a horizontal shaft deep intothe mountain side. The opening of their mine has been called Blue JohnGap, a clean-cut arch in the rock, the mouth all overgrown with bushes.It is a goodly passage which the Roman miners have cut, and itintersects some of the great water-worn caves, so that if you enterBlue John Gap you would do well to mark your steps and to have a goodstore of candles, or you may never make your way back to the daylightagain. I have not yet gone deeply into it, but this very day I stood atthe mouth of the arched tunnel, and peering down into the blackrecesses beyond, I vowed that when my health returned I would devotesome holiday to exploring those mysterious depths and finding out formyself how far the Roman had penetrated into the Derbyshire hills.

  Strange how superstitious these countrymen are! I should have thoughtbetter of young Armitage, for he is a man of some education andcharacter, and a very fine fellow for his station in life. I wasstanding at the Blue John Gap when he came across the field to me.

  "Well, doctor," said he, "you're not afraid, anyhow."

  "Afraid!" I answered. "Afraid of what?"

  "Of it," said he, with a jerk of his thumb towards the black vault, "ofthe Terror that lives in the Blue John Cave."

  How absurdly easy it is for a legend to arise in a lonely countryside!I examined him as to the reasons for his weird belief. It seems thatfrom time to time sheep have been missing from the fields, carriedbodily away, according to Armitage. That they could have wandered awayof their own accord and disappeared among the mountains was anexplanation to which he would not listen. On one occasion a pool ofblood had been found, and some tufts of wool. That also, I pointedout, could be explained in a perfectly natural way. Further, thenights upon which sheep disappeared were invariably very dark, cloudynights with no moon. This I met with the obvious retort that those werethe nights which a commonplace sheep-stealer would naturally choose forhis work. On one occasion a gap had been made in a wall, and some ofthe stones scattered for a considerable distance. Human agency again,in my opinion. Finally, Armitage clinched all his arguments by tellingme that he had actually heard the Creature--indeed, that anyone couldhear it who remained long enough at the Gap. It was a distant roaringof an immense volume. I could not but smile at this, knowing, as I do,the strange reverberations which come out of an underground watersystem running amid the chasms of a limestone formation. Myincredulity annoyed Armitage so that he turned and left me with someabruptness.

  And now comes the queer point about the whole business. I was stillstanding near the mouth of the cave turning over in my mind the variousstatements of Armitage, and reflecting how readily they could beexplained away, when suddenly, from the depth of the tunnel beside me,there issued a most extraordinary sound. How shall I describe it?First of all, it seemed to be a great distance away, far down in thebowels of the earth. Secondly, in spite of this suggestion ofdistance, it was very loud. Lastly, it was not a boom, nor a crash,such as one would associate with falling water or tumbling rock, but itwas a high whine, tremulous and vibrating, almost like the whinnying ofa horse. It was certainly a most remarkable experience, and one whichfor a moment, I must admit, gave a new significance to Armitage'swords. I waited by the Blue John Gap for half an hour or more, butthere was no return of the sound, so at last I wandered back to thefarmhouse, rather mystified by what had occurred. Decidedly I shallexplore that cavern when my strength is restored. Of course,Armitage's explanation is too absurd for discussion, and yet that soundwas certainly very strange. It still rings in my ears as I write.

  April 20.--In the last three days I have made several expeditions tothe Blue John Gap, and have even penetrated some short distance, but mybicycle lantern is so small and weak that I dare not trust myself veryfar. I shall do the thing more systematically. I have heard no soundat all, and could almost believe that I had been the victim of somehallucination suggested, perhaps, by Armitage's conversation. Ofcourse, the whole idea is absurd, and yet I must confess that thosebushes at the entrance of the cave do present an appearance as if someheavy creature had forced its way through them. I begin to be keenlyinterested. I have said nothing to the Miss Allertons, for they arequite superstitious enough already, but I have bought some candles, andmean to investigate for myself.

  I observed this morning that among the numerous tufts of shee
p's woolwhich lay among the bushes near the cavern there was one which wassmeared with blood. Of course, my reason tells me that if sheep wanderinto such rocky places they are likely to injure themselves, and yetsomehow that splash of crimson gave me a sudden shock, and for a momentI found myself shrinking back in horror from the old Roman arch. Afetid breath seemed to ooze from the black depths into which I peered.Could it indeed be possible that some nameless thing, some dreadfulpresence, was lurking down yonder? I should have been incapable ofsuch feelings in the days of my strength, but one grows more nervousand fanciful when one's health is shaken.

  For the moment I weakened in my resolution, and was ready to leave thesecret of the old mine, if one exists, for ever unsolved. But tonightmy interest has returned and my nerves grown more steady. Tomorrow Itrust that I shall have gone more deeply into this matter.

  April 22.--Let me try and set down as accurately as I can myextraordinary experience of yesterday. I started in the afternoon, andmade my way to the Blue John Gap. I confess that my misgivingsreturned as I gazed into its depths, and I wished that I had brought acompanion to share my exploration. Finally, with a return ofresolution, I lit my candle, pushed my way through the briars, anddescended into the rocky shaft.

  It went down at an acute angle for some fifty feet, the floor beingcovered with broken stone. Thence there extended a long, straightpassage cut in the solid rock. I am no geologist, but the lining ofthis corridor was certainly of some harder material than limestone, forthere were points where I could actually see the tool-marks which theold miners had left in their excavation, as fresh as if they had beendone yesterday. Down this strange, old-world corridor I stumbled, myfeeble flame throwing a dim circle of light around me, which made theshadows beyond the more threatening and obscure. Finally, I came to aspot where the Roman tunnel opened into a water-worn cavern--a hugehall, hung with long white icicles of lime deposit. From this centralchamber I could dimly perceive that a number of passages worn by thesubterranean streams wound away into the depths of the earth. I wasstanding there wondering whether I had better return, or whether I dareventure farther into this dangerous labyrinth, when my eyes fell uponsomething at my feet which strongly arrested my attention.

  The greater part of the floor of the cavern was covered with bouldersof rock or with hard incrustations of lime, but at this particularpoint there had been a drip from the distant roof, which had left apatch of soft mud. In the very centre of this there was a hugemark--an ill-defined blotch, deep, broad and irregular, as if a greatboulder had fallen upon it. No loose stone lay near, however, nor wasthere anything to account for the impression. It was far too large tobe caused by any possible animal, and besides, there was only the one,and the patch of mud was of such a size that no reasonable stride couldhave covered it. As I rose from the examination of that singular markand then looked round into the black shadows which hemmed me in, I mustconfess that I felt for a moment a most unpleasant sinking of my heart,and that, do what I could, the candle trembled in my outstretched hand.

  I soon recovered my nerve, however, when I reflected how absurd it wasto associate so huge and shapeless a mark with the track of any knownanimal. Even an elephant could not have produced it. I determined,therefore, that I would not be scared by vague and senseless fears fromcarrying out my exploration. Before proceeding, I took good note of acurious rock formation in the wall by which I could recognize theentrance of the Roman tunnel. The precaution was very necessary, forthe great cave, so far as I could see it, was intersected by passages.Having made sure of my position, and reassured myself by examining myspare candles and my matches, I advanced slowly over the rocky anduneven surface of the cavern.

  And now I come to the point where I met with such sudden and desperatedisaster. A stream, some twenty feet broad, ran across my path, and Iwalked for some little distance along the bank to find a spot where Icould cross dry-shod. Finally, I came to a place where a single flatboulder lay near the centre, which I could reach in a stride. As itchanced, however, the rock had been cut away and made top-heavy by therush of the stream, so that it tilted over as I landed on it and shotme into the ice-cold water. My candle went out, and I found myselffloundering about in utter and absolute darkness.

  I staggered to my feet again, more amused than alarmed by my adventure.The candle had fallen from my hand, and was lost in the stream, but Ihad two others in my pocket, so that it was of no importance. I gotone of them ready, and drew out my box of matches to light it. Onlythen did I realize my position. The box had been soaked in my fallinto the river. It was impossible to strike the matches.

  A cold hand seemed to close round my heart as I realized my position.The darkness was opaque and horrible. It was so utter one put one'shand up to one's face as if to press off something solid. I stoodstill, and by an effort I steadied myself. I tried to reconstruct inmy mind a map of the floor of the cavern as I had last seen it. Alas!the bearings which had impressed themselves upon my mind were high onthe wall, and not to be found by touch. Still, I remembered in ageneral way how the sides were situated, and I hoped that by groping myway along them I should at last come to the opening of the Romantunnel. Moving very slowly, and continually striking against therocks, I set out on this desperate quest.

  But I very soon realized how impossible it was. In that black, velvetydarkness one lost all one's bearings in an instant. Before I had madea dozen paces, I was utterly bewildered as to my whereabouts. Therippling of the stream, which was the one sound audible, showed mewhere it lay, but the moment that I left its bank I was utterly lost.The idea of finding my way back in absolute darkness through thatlimestone labyrinth was clearly an impossible one.

  I sat down upon a boulder and reflected upon my unfortunate plight. Ihad not told anyone that I proposed to come to the Blue John mine, andit was unlikely that a search party would come after me. Therefore Imust trust to my own resources to get clear of the danger. There wasonly one hope, and that was that the matches might dry. When I fellinto the river, only half of me had got thoroughly wet. My leftshoulder had remained above the water. I took the box of matches,therefore, and put it into my left armpit. The moist air of the cavernmight possibly be counteracted by the heat of my body, but even so, Iknew that I could not hope to get a light for many hours. Meanwhilethere was nothing for it but to wait.

  By good luck I had slipped several biscuits into my pocket before Ileft the farm-house. These I now devoured, and washed them down with adraught from that wretched stream which had been the cause of all mymisfortunes. Then I felt about for a comfortable seat among the rocks,and, having discovered a place where I could get a support for my back,I stretched out my legs and settled myself down to wait. I waswretchedly damp and cold, but I tried to cheer myself with thereflection that modern science prescribed open windows and walks in allweather for my disease. Gradually, lulled by the monotonous gurgle ofthe stream, and by the absolute darkness, I sank into an uneasy slumber.

  How long this lasted I cannot say. It may have been for an hour, itmay have been for several. Suddenly I sat up on my rock couch, withevery nerve thrilling and every sense acutely on the alert. Beyond alldoubt I had heard a sound--some sound very distinct from the gurglingof the waters. It had passed, but the reverberation of it stilllingered in my ear. Was it a search party? They would most certainlyhave shouted, and vague as this sound was which had wakened me, it wasvery distinct from the human voice. I sat palpitating and hardlydaring to breathe. There it was again! And again! Now it had becomecontinuous. It was a tread--yes, surely it was the tread of someliving creature. But what a tread it was! It gave one the impressionof enormous weight carried upon sponge-like feet, which gave forth amuffled but ear-filling sound. The darkness was as complete as ever,but the tread was regular and decisive. And it was coming beyond allquestion in my direction.

  My skin grew cold, and my hair stood on end as I listened to thatsteady and ponderous footfall. There was some creature there,
andsurely by the speed of its advance, it was one which could see in thedark. I crouched low on my rock and tried to blend myself into it.The steps grew nearer still, then stopped, and presently I was aware ofa loud lapping and gurgling. The creature was drinking at the stream.Then again there was silence, broken by a succession of long sniffs andsnorts of tremendous volume and energy. Had it caught the scent of me?My own nostrils were filled by a low fetid odour, mephitic andabominable. Then I heard the steps again. They were on my side of thestream now. The stones rattled within a few yards of where I lay.Hardly daring to breathe, I crouched upon my rock. Then the steps drewaway. I heard the splash as it returned across the river, and thesound died away into the distance in the direction from which it hadcome.

  For a long time I lay upon the rock, too much horrified to move. Ithought of the sound which I had heard coming from the depths of thecave, of Armitage's fears, of the strange impression in the mud, andnow came this final and absolute proof that there was indeed someinconceivable monster, something utterly unearthly and dreadful, whichlurked in the hollow of the mountain. Of its nature or form I couldframe no conception, save that it was both light-footed and gigantic.The combat between my reason, which told me that such things could notbe, and my senses, which told me that they were, raged within me as Ilay. Finally, I was almost ready to persuade myself that thisexperience had been part of some evil dream, and that my abnormalcondition might have conjured up an hallucination. But there remainedone final experience which removed the last possibility of doubt frommy mind.

  I had taken my matches from my armpit and felt them. They seemedperfectly hard and dry. Stooping down into a crevice of the rocks, Itried one of them. To my delight it took fire at once. I lit thecandle, and, with a terrified backward glance into the obscure depthsof the cavern, I hurried in the direction of the Roman passage. As Idid so I passed the patch of mud on which I had seen the huge imprint.Now I stood astonished before it, for there were three similar imprintsupon its surface, enormous in size, irregular in outline, of a depthwhich indicated the ponderous weight which had left them. Then a greatterror surged over me. Stooping and shading my candle with my hand, Iran in a frenzy of fear to the rocky archway, hastened up it, and neverstopped until, with weary feet and panting lungs, I rushed up the finalslope of stones, broke through the tangle of briars, and flung myselfexhausted upon the soft grass under the peaceful light of the stars.It was three in the morning when I reached the farm-house, and today Iam all unstrung and quivering after my terrific adventure. As yet Ihave told no one. I must move warily in the matter. What would thepoor lonely women, or the uneducated yokels here think of it if I wereto tell them my experience? Let me go to someone who can understandand advise.

  April 25.--I was laid up in bed for two days after my incredibleadventure in the cavern. I use the adjective with a very definitemeaning, for I have had an experience since which has shocked me almostas much as the other. I have said that I was looking round for someonewho could advise me. There is a Dr. Mark Johnson who practices somefew miles away, to whom I had a note of recommendation from ProfessorSaunderson. To him I drove, when I was strong enough to get about, andI recounted to him my whole strange experience. He listened intently,and then carefully examined me, paying special attention to my reflexesand to the pupils of my eyes. When he had finished, he refused todiscuss my adventure, saying that it was entirely beyond him, but hegave me the card of a Mr. Picton at Castleton, with the advice that Ishould instantly go to him and tell him the story exactly as I had doneto himself. He was, according to my adviser, the very man who waspre-eminently suited to help me. I went on to the station, therefore,and made my way to the little town, which is some ten miles away. Mr.Picton appeared to be a man of importance, as his brass plate wasdisplayed upon the door of a considerable building on the outskirts ofthe town. I was about to ring his bell, when some misgiving came intomy mind, and, crossing to a neighbouring shop, I asked the man behindthe counter if he could tell me anything of Mr. Picton. "Why," saidhe, "he is the best mad doctor in Derbyshire, and yonder is hisasylum." You can imagine that it was not long before I had shaken thedust of Castleton from my feet and returned to the farm, cursing allunimaginative pedants who cannot conceive that there may be things increation which have never yet chanced to come across their mole'svision. After all, now that I am cooler, I can afford to admit that Ihave been no more sympathetic to Armitage than Dr. Johnson has been tome.

  April 27. When I was a student I had the reputation of being a man ofcourage and enterprise. I remember that when there was a ghost-hunt atColtbridge it was I who sat up in the haunted house. Is it advancingyears (after all, I am only thirty-five), or is it this physical maladywhich has caused degeneration? Certainly my heart quails when I thinkof that horrible cavern in the hill, and the certainty that it has somemonstrous occupant. What shall I do? There is not an hour in the daythat I do not debate the question. If I say nothing, then the mysteryremains unsolved. If I do say anything, then I have the alternative ofmad alarm over the whole countryside, or of absolute incredulity whichmay end in consigning me to an asylum. On the whole, I think that mybest course is to wait, and to prepare for some expedition which shallbe more deliberate and better thought out than the last. As a firststep I have been to Castleton and obtained a few essentials--a largeacetylene lantern for one thing, and a good double-barrelled sportingrifle for another. The latter I have hired, but I have bought a dozenheavy game cartridges, which would bring down a rhinoceros. Now I amready for my troglodyte friend. Give me better health and a littlespate of energy, and I shall try conclusions with him yet. But who andwhat is he? Ah! there is the question which stands between me and mysleep. How many theories do I form, only to discard each in turn! Itis all so utterly unthinkable. And yet the cry, the footmark, thetread in the cavern--no reasoning can get past these I think of theold-world legends of dragons and of other monsters. Were they,perhaps, not such fairy-tales as we have thought? Can it be that thereis some fact which underlies them, and am I, of all mortals, the onewho is chosen to expose it?

  May 3.--For several days I have been laid up by the vagaries of anEnglish spring, and during those days there have been developments, thetrue and sinister meaning of which no one can appreciate save myself.I may say that we have had cloudy and moonless nights of late, whichaccording to my information were the seasons upon which sheepdisappeared. Well, sheep have disappeared. Two of Miss Allerton's,one of old Pearson's of the Cat Walk, and one of Mrs. Moulton's. Fourin all during three nights. No trace is left of them at all, and thecountryside is buzzing with rumours of gipsies and of sheep-stealers.

  But there is something more serious than that. Young Armitage hasdisappeared also. He left his moorland cottage early on Wednesdaynight and has never been heard of since. He was an unattached man, sothere is less sensation than would otherwise be the case. The popularexplanation is that he owes money, and has found a situation in someother part of the country, whence he will presently write for hisbelongings. But I have grave misgivings. Is it not much more likelythat the recent tragedy of the sheep has caused him to take some stepswhich may have ended in his own destruction? He may, for example, havelain in wait for the creature and been carried off by it into therecesses of the mountains. What an inconceivable fate for a civilizedEnglishman of the twentieth century! And yet I feel that it ispossible and even probable. But in that case, how far am I answerableboth for his death and for any other mishap which may occur? Surelywith the knowledge I already possess it must be my duty to see thatsomething is done, or if necessary to do it myself. It must be thelatter, for this morning I went down to the local police-station andtold my story. The inspector entered it all in a large book and bowedme out with commendable gravity, but I heard a burst of laughter beforeI had got down his garden path. No doubt he was recounting myadventure to his family.

  June 10.--I am writing this, propped up in bed, six weeks after my lastentry in this
journal. I have gone through a terrible shock both tomind and body, arising from such an experience as has seldom befallen ahuman being before. But I have attained my end. The danger from theTerror which dwells in the Blue John Gap has passed never to return.Thus much at least I, a broken invalid, have done for the common good.Let me now recount what occurred as clearly as I may.

  The night of Friday, May 3rd, was dark and cloudy--the very night forthe monster to walk. About eleven o'clock I went from the farm-housewith my lantern and my rifle, having first left a note upon the tableof my bedroom in which I said that, if I were missing, search should bemade for me in the direction of the Gap. I made my way to the mouth ofthe Roman shaft, and, having perched myself among the rocks close tothe opening, I shut off my lantern and waited patiently with my loadedrifle ready to my hand.

  It was a melancholy vigil. All down the winding valley I could see thescattered lights of the farm-houses, and the church clock ofChapel-le-Dale tolling the hours came faintly to my ears. These tokensof my fellow-men served only to make my own position seem the morelonely, and to call for a greater effort to overcome the terror whichtempted me continually to get back to the farm, and abandon for everthis dangerous quest. And yet there lies deep in every man a rootedself-respect which makes it hard for him to turn back from that whichhe has once undertaken. This feeling of personal pride was mysalvation now, and it was that alone which held me fast when everyinstinct of my nature was dragging me away. I am glad now that I hadthe strength. In spite of all that is has cost me, my manhood is atleast above reproach.

  Twelve o'clock struck in the distant church, then one, then two. Itwas the darkest hour of the night. The clouds were drifting low, andthere was not a star in the sky. An owl was hooting somewhere amongthe rocks, but no other sound, save the gentle sough of the wind, cameto my ears. And then suddenly I heard it! From far away down thetunnel came those muffled steps, so soft and yet so ponderous. I heardalso the rattle of stones as they gave way under that giant tread.They drew nearer. They were close upon me. I heard the crashing ofthe bushes round the entrance, and then dimly through the darkness Iwas conscious of the loom of some enormous shape, some monstrousinchoate creature, passing swiftly and very silently out from thetunnel. I was paralysed with fear and amazement. Long as I hadwaited, now that it had actually come I was unprepared for the shock.I lay motionless and breathless, whilst the great dark mass whisked byme and was swallowed up in the night.

  But now I nerved myself for its return. No sound came from thesleeping countryside to tell of the horror which was loose. In no waycould I judge how far off it was, what it was doing, or when it mightbe back. But not a second time should my nerve fail me, not a secondtime should it pass unchallenged. I swore it between my clenched teethas I laid my cocked rifle across the rock.

  And yet it nearly happened. There was no warning of approach now asthe creature passed over the grass. Suddenly, like a dark, driftingshadow, the huge bulk loomed up once more before me, making for theentrance of the cave. Again came that paralysis of volition which heldmy crooked forefinger impotent upon the trigger. But with a desperateeffort I shook it off. Even as the brushwood rustled, and themonstrous beast blended with the shadow of the Gap, I fired at theretreating form. In the blaze of the gun I caught a glimpse of a greatshaggy mass, something with rough and bristling hair of a withered greycolour, fading away to white in its lower parts, the huge bodysupported upon short, thick, curving legs. I had just that glance, andthen I heard the rattle of the stones as the creature tore down intoits burrow. In an instant, with a triumphant revulsion of feeling, Ihad cast my fears to the wind, and uncovering my powerful lantern, withmy rifle in my hand, I sprang down from my rock and rushed after themonster down the old Roman shaft.

  My splendid lamp cast a brilliant flood of vivid light in front of me,very different from the yellow glimmer which had aided me down the samepassage only twelve days before. As I ran, I saw the great beastlurching along before me, its huge bulk filling up the whole space fromwall to wall. Its hair looked like coarse faded oakum, and hung downin long, dense masses which swayed as it moved. It was like anenormous unclipped sheep in its fleece, but in size it was far largerthan the largest elephant, and its breadth seemed to be nearly as greatas its height. It fills me with amazement now to think that I shouldhave dared to follow such a horror into the bowels of the earth, butwhen one's blood is up, and when one's quarry seems to be flying, theold primeval hunting-spirit awakes and prudence is cast to the wind.Rifle in hand, I ran at the top of my speed upon the trail of themonster.

  I had seen that the creature was swift. Now I was to find out to mycost that it was also very cunning. I had imagined that it was inpanic flight, and that I had only to pursue it. The idea that it mightturn upon me never entered my excited brain. I have already explainedthat the passage down which I was racing opened into a great centralcave. Into this I rushed, fearful lest I should lose all trace of thebeast. But he had turned upon his own traces, and in a moment we wereface to face.

  That picture, seen in the brilliant white light of the lantern, isetched for ever upon my brain. He had reared up on his hind legs as abear would do, and stood above me, enormous, menacing--such a creatureas no nightmare had ever brought to my imagination. I have said that hereared like a bear, and there was something bear-like--if one couldconceive a bear which was ten-fold the bulk of any bear seen uponearth--in his whole pose and attitude, in his great crooked forelegswith their ivory-white claws, in his rugged skin, and in his red,gaping mouth, fringed with monstrous fangs. Only in one point did hediffer from the bear, or from any other creature which walks the earth,and even at that supreme moment a shudder of horror passed over me as Iobserved that the eyes which glistened in the glow of my lantern werehuge, projecting bulbs, white and sightless. For a moment his greatpaws swung over my head. The next he fell forward upon me, I and mybroken lantern crashed to the earth, and I remember no more.

  When I came to myself I was back in the farm-house of the Allertons.Two days had passed since my terrible adventure in the Blue John Gap.It seems that I had lain all night in the cave insensible fromconcussion of the brain, with my left arm and two ribs badly fractured.In the morning my note had been found, a search party of a dozenfarmers assembled, and I had been tracked down and carried back to mybedroom, where I had lain in high delirium ever since. There was, itseems, no sign of the creature, and no bloodstain which would show thatmy bullet had found him as he passed. Save for my own plight and themarks upon the mud, there was nothing to prove that what I said wastrue.

  Six weeks have now elapsed, and I am able to sit out once more in thesunshine. Just opposite me is the steep hillside, grey with shalyrock, and yonder on its flank is the dark cleft which marks the openingof the Blue John Gap. But it is no longer a source of terror. Neveragain through that ill-omened tunnel shall any strange shape flit outinto the world of men. The educated and the scientific, the Dr.Johnsons and the like, may smile at my narrative, but the poorer folkof the countryside had never a doubt as to its truth. On the day aftermy recovering consciousness they assembled in their hundreds round theBlue John Gap. As the Castleton Courier said:

  "It was useless for our correspondent, or for any of the adventurousgentlemen who had come from Matlock, Buxton, and other parts, to offerto descend, to explore the cave to the end, and to finally test theextraordinary narrative of Dr. James Hardcastle. The country people hadtaken the matter into their own hands, and from an early hour of themorning they had worked hard in stopping up the entrance of the tunnel.There is a sharp slope where the shaft begins, and great boulders,rolled along by many willing hands, were thrust down it until the Gapwas absolutely sealed. So ends the episode which has caused suchexcitement throughout the country. Local opinion is fiercely dividedupon the subject. On the one hand are those who point to Dr.Hardcastle's impaired health, and to the possibility of cerebrallesions of tubercular origin giving rise to strange hallucinations.Some
idee fixe, according to these gentlemen, caused the doctor towander down the tunnel, and a fall among the rocks was sufficient toaccount for his injuries. On the other hand, a legend of a strangecreature in the Gap has existed for some months back, and the farmerslook upon Dr. Hardcastle's narrative and his personal injuries as afinal corroboration. So the matter stands, and so the matter willcontinue to stand, for no definite solution seems to us to be nowpossible. It transcends human wit to give any scientific explanationwhich could cover the alleged facts."

  Perhaps before the Courier published these words they would have beenwise to send their representative to me. I have thought the matterout, as no one else has occasion to do, and it is possible that I mighthave removed some of the more obvious difficulties of the narrative andbrought it one degree nearer to scientific acceptance. Let me thenwrite down the only explanation which seems to me to elucidate what Iknow to my cost to have been a series of facts. My theory may seem tobe wildly improbable, but at least no one can venture to say that it isimpossible.

  My view is--and it was formed, as is shown by my diary, before mypersonal adventure--that in this part of England there is a vastsubterranean lake or sea, which is fed by the great number of streamswhich pass down through the limestone. Where there is a largecollection of water there must also be some evaporation, mists or rain,and a possibility of vegetation. This in turn suggests that there maybe animal life, arising, as the vegetable life would also do, fromthose seeds and types which had been introduced at an early period ofthe world's history, when communication with the outer air was moreeasy. This place had then developed a fauna and flora of its own,including such monsters as the one which I had seen, which may wellhave been the old cave-bear, enormously enlarged and modified by itsnew environment. For countless aeons the internal and the externalcreation had kept apart, growing steadily away from each other. Thenthere had come some rift in the depths of the mountain which hadenabled one creature to wander up and, by means of the Roman tunnel, toreach the open air. Like all subterranean life, it had lost the powerof sight, but this had no doubt been compensated for by nature in otherdirections. Certainly it had some means of finding its way about, andof hunting down the sheep upon the hillside. As to its choice of darknights, it is part of my theory that light was painful to those greatwhite eyeballs, and that it was only a pitch-black world which it couldtolerate. Perhaps, indeed, it was the glare of my lantern which savedmy life at that awful moment when we were face to face. So I read theriddle. I leave these facts behind me, and if you can explain them, doso; or if you choose to doubt them, do so. Neither your belief noryour incredulity can alter them, nor affect one whose task is nearlyover.

  So ended the strange narrative of Dr. James Hardcastle.