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Hodgson, William Hope, 1877-1918

"The House on the Borderland"

After that, nothing; not even the dog's whine.
I must have stood there some minutes. Then a fragment of courage stole
into my heart, and I made a frightened rush at the door, dashed it to,
and bolted it. After that, for a full half-hour, I sat,
helpless--staring before me, rigidly.
Slowly, my life came back into me, and I made my way, shakily,
up-stairs to bed.
That is all.

_XXV_
THE THING FROM THE ARENA
This morning, early, I went through the gardens; but found everything
as usual. Near the door, I examined the path, for footprints; yet, here
again, there was nothing to tell me whether, or not, I dreamed
last night.
It was only when I came to speak to the dog, that I discovered tangible
proof, that something did happen. When I went to his kennel, he kept
inside, crouching up in one corner, and I had to coax him, to get him
out. When, finally, he consented to come, it was in a strangely cowed
and subdued manner. As I patted him, my attention was attracted to a
greenish patch, on his left flank.


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