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After, I suppose, some hours, I was awakened by a loud noise close to my bed, as of some heavy body falling on the floor from a height; but being only partially roused, I drowsily conjectured it was fancy on my part, and turned over on my side, preparatory to again composing myself to sleep. This movement brought my face opposite the window, the blind of which I had desired Hannah to draw up the last thing at night, that I might enjoy the sight of the sunrise, if by some untoward and unusual event I should not sleep as late as usual. The room was flooded with bright moonlight, and I had an uneasy feeling as I gazed at the white expanse of toilet-cover on the dressing-table before the window that there was something wrong about its appearance. Suddenly I remembered that I had certainly placed my watch and chain on the corner of the table after winding it up the night before. It was no longer there. Trying to persuade myself that I was mistaken, I raised myself on my elbow to look more carefully after my missing watch, when I distinctly felt the bed-clothes, which my movement had a little displaced, tugged toward the foot of the bed. Instinctively I clutched my retreating coverings, and in spite of some unseen opposing agency, succeeded in restoring them to their former position, only to feel them again slowly drawn away. Three times this agitating phenomenon occurred. At last I determined to abandon some portion of the bed-clothes, retaining only the sheet, in which I wrapped myself tightly, and watched the blankets, etc., pulled to the floor and slowly dragged under the bed. Motionless with terror, I lay scarcely daring to breathe, while numerous and dire possibilities occurred to my distracted imagination. Was my unseen visitor a moonlighter? Was this a preliminary measure to the “murdering in one’s bed,” so graphically quoted by Hannah from the P. C.—. 192, the well informed? Certainly I was not in favor of home rule. Could the Land League be about to make an example of so insignificant a unit as myself.
After a space which seemed to me interminable, although it could have been only of a few minutes’ duration, my nocturnal visitant, who had been emitting sundry very terrifying snorts and suppressed demoniacal cackles, put out a hairy hand, and grasped the edge of the bedstead furthest from me, slowly drawing to its full height the body of a large baboon, clad in a species of loose tunic. Round its neck was suspended my chain; while the watch, still attached to the chain, was held in its hand. I gazed horror-stricken upon this fearful sight, recalling in a kind of agony all the stories I had heard and read of the extreme ferocity of the baboon, remembering, too, that my door was locked, and that I was entirely at the mercy of a brute almost as large as, and infinitely more powerful than myself.
It was not in this way that I had so ardently desired to study the fascinating ways of the Simiæ, and as I thought of my brothers’ laughing wishes at parting with me. I was struck with a sense of the grim humor of the situation. But the humorous aspect did not appeal to me for long, as I watched with fascinating eagerness the movements of my terrible visitor. With uncouth, shambling steps the creature walked to the window, and by the light of the moon examined my unfortunate watch. Its glittering case evidently delighted the baboon, as it stroked it repeatedly with one finger; but the ticking, of which it could not discover the cause or the whereabouts, appeared to exasperate it, and it tossed the watch contemptuously aside, though it remained dangling from its chain down the animal’s back. Once I made a slight sound; but my undesirable visitor resented it by so savage a spring in my direction that I feigned profound slumber, and only ventured to open my eyes after several minutes of strained expectation that I was about to receive practical illustration of that which I had so often carelessly spoken about—the extraordinary physical force in the fore limbs of the Quadrumana. When I did dare to look again, I saw that the baboon had seated itself before the toilet glass, and, by the aid of my brushes and combs, was attempting to reduce its bushy locks to some order. Finding this task a fruitless one, it proceeded to ransack my jewel-case, which Hannah had carelessly left open, and one by one examined various articles it contained. Rings and brooches and bracelets the creature appeared to approve of, but a jewel comb for the hair and a diamond star it evidently did not at all appreciate, flinging them down and snarling at them savagely.
I dared not attract the creature’s attention to myself by making any sound, and had to watch in silent agony this rifling and appropriation of my most cherished possessions by an unappreciative baboon! At last it turned away from the window, and came in a leisurely manner toward the bed, eyeing me stealthily while it advanced; and having reached the bedside, stooped down and proceeded to draw out from under the bed the blankets of which it had despoiled me at a very early stage of the operations. Upon these blankets it tried to find a comfortable resting-place, but after turning and twisting uneasily for some minutes, emitting short grunts of ill-temper and dissatisfaction, it got up and, to my horror lay down on the bed across my feet! The discomfort and pain were almost unbearable; but fortunately after a short time the baboon rolled further down the bed, and lay at the very foot with its face turned in my direction. Its regular breathing soon showed if was asleep; but I remained in an agony of fear least some movement of mine should awaken the brute.
How the remaining hours of the night wore away I knew not—to me they seemed interminable. But when the sounds of the awakened household made themselves heard my terror increased, for I feared that the baboon would certainly be roused and attack me. Still it slept, and still I lay and watched it, until Hannah’s knock at my door awakened me to the consciousness that this could not go on forever.
In a very low voice I bade my maid call Mrs. Ardagh; and when Marian’s voice was heard outside demanding anxiously what had happened, I hurriedly explained the dreadful situation. To my surprise she exclaimed in what sounded almost a tone of relief, “Why, that must be Molly! Oh, how pleased Tom will be! Please lie quite still until I fetch him.” My feelings, while I lay and awaited the end of this most unpleasant adventure, may be better imagined than described, but at last Mr. Ardagh’s voice was heard outside the door calling in tones of authority, “Molly, Molly, come here!” The baboon sprang to her feet, gave a startled glance round the room, and, rushing to the fireplace, made its exit, as it had made its entrance, by the chimney. When the extreme tension was relaxed my nerves gave way and I fainted. Mrs. Ardagh and Hannah, having forced the lock off my door, applied restoratives, and, after some time, I regained consciousness, and was able to hear a detailed account of the capture of the baboon, which Mr. Ardagh accomplished with much difficulty. Her escape had not been discovered until late on the night of my arrival, and the idea of her being in the house had never occurred to him, as all the doors and windows were carefully fastened, and the chimney never suggested itself to him as a mode of ingress, though it had evidently appeared to the fancy of Molly.
Many of my possessions which had been appropriated by this kleptomaniac baboon were restored to me; but my watch was hopelessly damaged in Molly’s ascent of the chimney. In the pocket of her tunic was discovered with my trinkets Marian’s bracelet, which had so mysteriously disappeared, proving, beyond a doubt, that Molly had made her escape much earlier than was at first supposed.
I stayed at Ballynaghader only long enough to recruit my strength sufficiently to travel, and then started for home, accompanied by Marian. For a long while my nerves did not recover from the shock they had sustained. Every one was very considerate about it; even my brothers did not chaff me as I had dreaded they would, and made very few remarks anent my want of “philoprogenitiveness” when I begged to be excused from accompanying them to the Zoo.
(Edward Iraneus Stephenson: The Manhattan.)
Unaffected was the regret in Yellow Bear City, Storey County, Nevada, when, upon a certain January evening in the year 187—, the news spread that Professor Jovanny was dead. Professor Jovanny had been a long time (as time runs in communities like Yellow Bear City) piano-player in ordinary to the “Cosmopolitan Hotel and Dancing Pavilion—Ladies Free.” Yellow Bear was yet something uncultivated. It was true that its small population found advantage in pursuing the study of geology, after the methods advocated by Mr. Squeers, and that tons of gold-hiding quartz were daily crushed through their energies; but, in spite of a weekly newspaper, thirteen saloons (where discussion upon our national policy not unfrequently led to—lead), an unfinished Methodist mission chapel and six dance-houses (including the Cosmopolitan), the advances of art and sentiment within Yellow Bear’s straggling limits had been coy. The dint of pity was quite a different matter. It was genuinely felt now. All was excitement at “Cosmopolitan End,” where a notice, nailed above the bar of the popular resort, apprised patrons, first, of the sad event, and, second, of the omission of the usual evening dance, which Professor Jovanny’s untimely taking-off rendered impracticable. The street-corner next the Cosmopolitan, just around which stood the house of mourning, was the rallying-spot for groups of sympathizing Yellow Bear citizens. “Poor old One-Two-Three!”—“Handlin’ a golden harp, mebbe, by this, think?” and many other more potent and entirely unquotable remarks and testimonials to the virtuoso’s virtues were plentiful and loud. The old and cracked piano itself, at the upper end of the long dance-room, was already draped with sundry torn strips of bombazine and white cambric. A yellow and scarcely relevant engraving of Abraham Lincoln, which the Yellow Bear flies seemed to have visited with cruel pertinacity, had been propped upright upon its cover. Its legend, “We Mourn our Loss,” struck the barkeeper as an appropriate and delicate expression of personal grief, under the circumstances. San Monito street was unanimous in confessing that Yellow Bear could well have spared a better man; thereby signifying a man who could drink deep, swing a pick long and shoot informally—in none of which accomplishments the dead musician had been versed. The editor of the Weekly Intelligencer was, during the last moments of the waning twilight, correcting in proof an obituary headed in his heaviest-faced capitals, “Muses in the Mud. Death of our Talented Fellow-Citizen, Professor Jovanny.” In short, as Rioba Jack expressed it to the crowd of choice spirits hanging about the Cosmopolitan bar, Professor Jovanny’s decease was “a suc—cess.”
And as to this dead Nevada Orpheus who lay white and rigid around the corner, and whose name, when pronounced nearer to the Atlantic, must have been Giovanni something, or something Giovanni, what was now to him the petty bustle of Yellow
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