everyone rushed toward the thicket. The cries redoubled as we approached. Presently we saw a woman running through the underbrush, and after a chase of several minutes over took her. My heart leaped to my throat as I recognized Ruth Randall.
She was crouching low, as if in deadly fear of something which she seemed to be trying to push away from her—something invisible, imperceptible, to us. Her beautiful hair hung below her waist, and her clothing was bedraggled and torn.
I was first to reach her side.
"Ruth! What is the matter?"
"Oh, that huge bat—that terrible bat with the fiery eyes! Drive him away from me! Don't let him get me! Please! Please!"
I tried to soothe her in my arms. She looked up, her eyes distended with terror.
"There he is—right behind you! Oh, don't let him get me! Please don't let him get me!"
I looked back, but could see nothing resembling a bat. The armed men stood around us in a circle.
"There is no bat behind me." I said. "You are overwrought. Don't be frightened."
"But there is a bat. I can see him. He is flying around us in a circle now. Don't you see him flying there?" and she described an arc with her hand. "You men have guns. Shoot him. Drive him away."
Glitch spoke, "It's der vampire again. Ve'll put a schtop to dis business right now. Come one, men."
We started back to the grove. I was nonplussed—mystified. Perhaps there was such a thing as a vampire, after all. But no, that could not be. She was only the victim of overwrought nerves.
Once more we stood beside the grave. Two men were screwing down the coffin lid. The three with the stake and sledges stood ready. I saw that Miss Randall was trembling with the cold, for she had come out without a wrap, and, removing my coat, I placed it around her.
The professor stood at the foot of the grave, looking down calmly at the men. He appeared almost unconcerned.
The stake was placed on the spot, calculated to be directly above the left breast of my uncle, and the man nearest me raised his sledge to strike.
I leaped toward him.
"Don't strike! For God's sake, don't strike!" I cried, seizing his arm.
Someone hit me on the back of the head, and strong arms dragged me back. My senses reeled, as I saw first one heavy sledge descend, then another. The stake crashed through the coffin and deep into the ground beneath, driven by the relentless blows.
Suddenly, apparently from the bottom of the grave, came a muffled wailing cry, increasing to a horrible, blood-curdling shriek.
The mob stood for a moment as if paralyzed, then, to a man, fled precipitately, stopping for neither weapons nor tools. I found temporary relief in unconsciousness....
My senses returned to me gradually. I was walking, or, rather, reeling, as one intoxicated, between Miss Randall and her father, who were helping me toward the house. The professor was carrying a lantern which one of the men had dropped and fantastic, swaying, bobbing shadows stretched wherever its rays penetrated.
After what seemed an age of painful travel we reached the house, Miss Randall helped me into the front room, the professor following. Sam and Joe Severs were there, and someone reclined in the large morris chair facing the fire. Mrs. Rhodes came bustling in with a steaming tea wagon.
I moved toward the fire, for I was chilled through. As I did so, I glanced toward the occupant of the morris chair, then gave a startled cry.
