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Blackwood, Algernon, 1869-1951

"Three More John Silence Stories"

The night, otherwise, was very still, and the sea quiet as a
lake. I remember that I was conscious, peculiarly conscious, of this
host of desolate islands crowding about us in the darkness, and that we
were the one little spot of humanity in a rather wonderful kind of
wilderness.
But this, I think, was the only symptom that came to warn me of highly
strung nerves, and it certainly was not sufficiently alarming to destroy
my peace of mind. One thing, however, did come to disturb my peace, for
just as I finally made ready to go, and had kicked the embers of the
fire into a last effort, I fancied I saw, peering at me round the
farther end of the stockade wall, a dark and shadowy mass that might
have been--that strongly resembled, in fact--the body of a large animal.
Two glowing eyes shone for an instant in the middle of it. But the next
second I saw that it was merely a projecting mass of moss and lichen in
the wall of our stockade, and the eyes were a couple of wandering sparks
from the dying ashes I had kicked.


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