Chapter 14. The Hound of the Baskervilles

gflame.Neverinthedeliriousdreamofadisorderedbraincouldanythingmoresavage,moreappalling,morehellishbeconceivedthanthatdarkformandsavagefacewhichbrokeuponusoutofthewalloffog. Withlongboundsthehugeblackcreaturewasleapingdownthetrack,followingharduponthefootstepsofourfriend.Soparalyzedwerewebytheapparitionthatweallowedhimtopassbeforewehadrecoveredournerve.ThenHolmesandIbothfiredtogether,andthecreaturegaveahideoushowl,whichshowedthatoneatleasthadhithim.Hedidnotpause,however,butboundedonward.FarawayonthepathwesawSirHenrylookingback,hisfacewhiteinthemoonlight,hishandsraisedinhorror,glaringhelplesslyatthefrightfulthingwhichwashuntinghimdown.Butthatcryofpainfromthehoundhadblownallourfearstothewinds.Ifhewasvulnerablehewasmortal,andifwecouldwoundhimwecouldkillhim.NeverhaveIseenamanrunasHolmesranthatnight.Iamreckonedfleetoffoot,butheoutpacedmeasmuchasIoutpacedthelittleprofessional.InfrontofusasweflewupthetrackweheardscreamafterscreamfromSirHenryandthedeeproarofthehound.Iwasintimetoseethebeastspringuponitsvictim,hurlhimtotheground,andworryathisthroat.ButthenextinstantHolmeshademptiedfivebarrelsofhisrevolverintothecreature’sflank.Withalasthowlofagonyandavicioussnapintheair,itrolleduponitsback,fourfeetpawingfuriously,andthenfelllimpuponitsside.Istooped,panting,andpressedmypistoltothedreadful,shimmeringhead,butitwasuselesstopressthetrigger.Thegianthoundwasdead. SirHenrylayinsensiblewherehehadfallen.Wetoreawayhiscollar,andHolmesbreathedaprayerofgratitudewhenwesawthattherewasnosignofawoundandthattherescuehadbeenintime.Alreadyourfriend’seyelidsshiveredandhemadeafeebleefforttomove.Lestradethrusthisbrandy-flaskbetweenthebaronet’steeth,andtwofrightenedeyeswerelookingupatus. “MyGod!”hewhispered.“Whatwasit?What,inheaven’sname,wasit?” “It’sdead,whateveritis,”saidHolmes.“We’velaidthefamilyghostonceandforever.” Inmeresizeandstrengthitwasaterriblecreaturewhichwaslyingstretchedbeforeus.Itwasnotapurebloodhoundanditwasnotapuremastiffbutitappearedtobeacombinationofthetwo—gaunt,savage,andaslargeasasmalllioness.Evennowinthestillnessofdeath,thehugejawsseemedtobedrippingwithabluishflameandthesmall,deep-set,crueleyeswereringedwithfire.Iplacedmyhandupontheglowingmuzzle,andasIheldthemupmyownfingerssmoulderedandgleamedinthedarkness. “Phosphorus,”Isaid. “Acunningpreparationofit,”saidHolmes,sniffingatthedeadanimal.“Thereisnosmellwhichmighthaveinterferedwithhispowerofscent.Weoweyouadeepapology,SirHenry,forhavingexposedyoutothisfright.Iwaspreparedforahound,butnotforsuchacreatureasthis.Andthefoggaveuslittletimetoreceivehim.” “Youhavesavedmylife.” “Havingfirstendangeredit.Areyoustrongenoughtostand?” “GivemeanothermouthfulofthatbrandyandIshallbereadyforanything.So!Now,ifyouwillhelpmeup.Whatdoyouproposetodo?” “Toleaveyouhere.Youarenotfitforfurtheradventurestonight.Ifyouwillwait,oneorotherofuswillgobackwithyoutotheHall.” Hetriedtostaggertohisfeetbuthewasstillghastlypaleandtremblingineverylimb.Wehelpedhimtoarock,wherehesatshiveringwithhisfaceburiedinhishands. “Wemustleaveyounow,”saidHolmes.“Therestofourworkmustbedone,andeverymomentisofimportance.Wehaveourcase,andnowweonlywantourman. “It’sathousandtooneagainstourfindinghimatthehouse,”hecontinuedasweretracedourstepsswiftlydownthepath.“Thoseshotsmusthavetoldhimthatthegamewasup.” “Weweresomedistanceoff,andthisfogmayhavedeadenedthem.” “Hefollowedthehoundtocallhimoff—ofthatyoumaybecertain.No,no,he’sgonebythistime!Butwe’llsearchthehouseandmakesure.” Thefrontdoorwasopen,sowerushedinandhurriedfromroomtoroomtotheamazementofadodderingoldmanservant,whometusinthepassage.Therewasnolightsaveinthedining-room,butHolmescaughtupthelampandleftnocorneroftheh