"You'll find a flash lamp in the right hand pocket of my coat," directed Bridge."Take it and make a light."With trembling fingers the Kid did as he was bid, and when after much fumbling he found the button a slim shaft of white light, fell downward upon the up-turned face of a man cold in death--a little man, strangely garbed, with gold rings in his ears, and long black hair matted in the death sweat of his brow.His eyes were wide and, even in death, terror filled, his fea-tures were distorted with fear and horror.His fingers, clenched in the rigidity of death, clutched wisps of dark brown hair.There were no indications of a wound or other violence upon his body, that either the Kid or Bridge could see, except the dried remains of bloody froth which flecked his lips.
Bridge still stood holding the quiet form of the girl in his arms, while The Kid, pressed close to the man's side, clutched one arm with a fierce intensity which be-spoke at once the nervous terror which filled him and the reliance he placed upon his new found friend.
To their right, in the faint light of the flash lamp, a narrow stairway was revealed leading to the second story.Straight ahead was a door opening upon the black-ness of a rear apartment.Beside the foot of the stair-way was another door leading to the cellar steps.
Bridge nodded toward the rear room."The stove is in there," he said."We'd better go on and make a fire.
Draw your pistol--whoever did this has probably beat it; but it's just as well to he on the safe side.""I'm afraid," said The Oskaloosa Kid."Let's leave this frightful place.It's just as I told you it was; just as Ialways heard."
"We can't leave this woman, my boy," replied Bridge.
"She isn't dead.We can't leave her, and we can't take her out into the storm in her condition.We must stay.
Come! buck up.There's nothing to fear from a dead man, and--"He never finished the sentence.From the depths of the cellar came the sound of a clanking chain.Some-thing scratched heavily upon the wooden steps.What-ever it was it was evidently ascending, while behind it clanked the heavy links of a dragged chain.
The Oskaloosa Kid cast a wide eyed glance of terror at Bridge.His lips moved in an attempt to speak; but fear rendered him inarticulate.Slowly, ponderously the THING ascended the dark stairs from the gloom ridden cellar of the deserted ruin.Even Bridge paled a trifle.
The man upon the floor appeared to have met an un-natural death--the frightful expression frozen upon the dead face might even indicate something verging upon the supernatural.The sound of the THING climbing out of the cellar was indeed uncanny--so uncanny that Bridge discovered himself looking about for some means of escape.His eyes fell upon the stairway leading to the second floor.
"Quick!" he whispered."Up the stairs! You go first;I'll follow."
The Kid needed no second invitation.With a bound he was half way up the rickety staircase; but a glance ahead at the darkness above gave him pause while he waited for Bridge to catch up with him.Coming more slowly with his burden the man followed the boy, while from below the clanking of the chain warned them that the THING was already at the top of the cellar stairs.
"Flash the lamp down there," directed Bridge."Let's have a look at it, whatever it is."With trembling hands The Oskaloosa Kid directed the lens over the edge of the swaying and rotting bannister, his finger slipped from the lighting button plunging them all into darkness.In his frantic effort to find the button and relight the lamp the worst occurred--he fum-bled the button and the lamp slipped through his fin-gers, falling over the bannister to the floor below.In-stantly the sound of the dragging chain ceased; but the silence was even more horrible than the noise which had preceded it.
For a long minute the two at the head of the stairs stood in tense silence listening for a repetition of the gruesome sounds from below.The youth was frankly terrified; he made no effort to conceal the fact; but pressed close to his companion, again clutching his arm tightly.Bridge could feel the trembling of the slight fig-ure, the spasmodic gripping of the slender fingers and hear the quick, short, irregular breathing.A sudden im-pulse to throw a protecting arm about the boy seized him--an impulse which he could not quite fathom, and one to which he could not respond because of the body of the girl he carried.
He bent toward the youth."There are matches in my coat pocket," he whispered, "--the same pocket in which you found the flash lamp.Strike one and we'll look for a room here where we can lay the girl."The boy fumbled gropingly in search of the matches.
It was evident to the man that it was only with the greatest exertion of will power that he controlled his muscles at all; but at last he succeeded in finding and striking one.At the flare of the light there was a sound from below--a scratching sound and the creaking of boards as beneath a heavy body; then came the clank-ing of the chain once more, and the bannister against which they leaned shook as though a hand had been laid upon it below them.The youth stifled a shriek and simultaneously the match went out; but not before Bridge had seen in the momentary flare of light a par-tially open door at the far end of the hall in which they stood.
Beneath them the stairs creaked now and the chain thumped slowly from one to another as it was dragged upward toward them.
