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Hodgson, William Hope, 1877-1918

"The House on the Borderland"

A
minute, and then another, and we reached the confines of the wood coming
out at last upon the bare rockiness of the countryside. Only then was I
able to shake off the haunting dread that had followed me among
the trees.
Once, as we moved away, there seemed to come again a distant sound of
wailing, and I said to myself that it was the wind--yet the evening was
breathless.
Presently, Tonnison began to talk.
"Look you," he said with decision, "I would not spend the night in
_that_ place for all the wealth that the world holds. There is something
unholy--diabolical--about it. It came to me all in a moment, just after
you spoke. It seemed to me that the woods were full of vile
things--you know!"
"Yes," I answered, and looked back toward the place; but it was hidden
from us by a rise in the ground.
"There's the book," I said, and I put my hand into the satchel.
"You've got it safely?" he questioned, with a sudden access of anxiety.
"Yes," I replied.
"Perhaps," he continued, "we shall learn something from it when we get
back to the tent.


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