His haousekeeper Sally was carryin' on fit ter
kill--she'd jest seed the trees a-bendin' beside the rud, an' says
they was a kind o' mushy saound, like a elephant puffin' an' treadin',
a-headin' fer the haouse. Then she up an' spoke suddent of a fearful
smell, an' says her boy Cha'ncey was a-screamin' as haow it was jest
like what he smelt up to the Whateley rewins Monday mornin'. An' the
dogs was all barkin' an' whinin' awful. "An' then she let aout a turrible yell, an' says the shed daown the
rud hed jest caved in like the storm hed blowed it over, only the wind
wa'n't strong enough to dew that. Everybody was a-listenin', an' ye
could hear lots o' folks on the wire a-gaspin'. All to onct Sally she
yelled agin, an' says the front yard picket fence bed jest crumpled up,
though they wa'n't no sign o' what done it. Then everybody on the line
could hear Cha'ncey an' ol' Seth Bishop a-yellin', tew, an' Sally was
shriekin' aout that suthin' heavy hed struck the haouse--not lightnin'
nor nothin', but suthin' heavy agin' the front, that kep' a-launchin'
itself agin an' agin, though ye couldn't see nuthin' aout the front
winders. An' then ... an' then...."

Lines of fright deepened on every face; and Armitage, shaken as he was,
had barely poise enough to prompt the speaker. "An' then ... Sally she yelled aout, 'O help, the haouse is a-cavin'
in' ... an' on the wire we could hoar a turrible crashin', an' a hull
flock o' screamin' ... jest like when Elmer Frye's place was took, only
wuss...."

The man paused, and another of the crowd spoke. "That's all--not a saound nor squeak over the 'phone arter that. Jest
still-like. We that heerd it got aout Fords an' wagons an' raounded
up as many able-bodied men-folks as we could get, at Corey's place,
an' come up here ter see what yew thought best ter dew. Not but what I
think it's the Lord's judgment fer our iniquities, that no mortal kin
ever set aside." Armitage saw that the time for positive action had come, and spoke
decisively to the faltering group of frightened rustics. "We must follow it, boys." He made his voice as reassuring as possible. "I believe there's a chance of putting it out of business. You men
know that those Whateleys were wizards--well, this thing is a thing
of wizardry, and must be put down by the same means. I've seen Wilbur
Whateley's diary and read some of the strange old books he used to
read, and I think I know the right kind of a spell to recite to make
the thing fade away. Of course, one can't be sure, but we can always
take a chance. It's invisible--I knew it would be--but there's a powder
in this long-distance sprayer that might make it show up for a second. Later on we'll try it. It's a frightful thing to have alive, but it
isn't as bad as what Wilbur would have let in if he'd lived longer. You'll never know what the world has escaped. Now we've only this one
thing to fight, and it can't multiply. It can, though, do a lot of
harm; so we mustn't hesitate to rid the community of it. "We must follow it--and the way to begin is to go to the place that has
just been wrecked. Let somebody lead the way--I don't know your roads
very well, but I've an idea there might be a shorter cut across lots. How about it?" The men shuffled about a moment, and then Earl Sawyer spoke softly,
pointing with a grimy finger through the steadily lessening rain. "I guess ye kin git to Seth Bishop's quickest by cuttin' acrost the
lower medder here, wadin' the brook at the low place, an' climbin'
through Carrier's mowin' an' the timber-lot beyont. That comes aout on
the upper rud mighty nigh Seth's--a leetle t'other side." Armitage, with Rice and Morgan, started to walk in the direction
indicated; and most of the natives followed slowly. The sky was growing
lighter, and there were signs that the storm had worn itself away. When
Armitage inadvertently took a wrong direction, Joe Osborn warned him
and walked ahead to show the right one. Courage and confidence were
mounting; though the twilight of the almost perpendicular wooded hill
which lay toward the end of their short cut, and among whose fantastic
ancient trees they had to scramble as if up a ladder, put these
qualities to a severe test. At length they emerged on a muddy road to find the sun coming out. They were a little beyond the Seth Bishop place, but bent trees and
hideously unmistakable tracks showed what had passed by. Only a few
moments were consumed in surveying the ruins just around the bend. It
was the Frye incident all over again, and nothing dead or living was
found in either of the collapsed shells which had been the Bishop house
and barn. No one cared to remain there amidst the stench and the tarry
stickiness, but all turned instinctively to the line of horrible prints
leading on toward the wrecked Whateley farmhouse and the altar-crowned
slopes of Sentinel Hill. As the men passed the site of Wilbur Whateley's abode they shuddered
visibly, and seemed again to mix hesitancy with their zeal. It was
no joke tracking down something as big as a house that one could not
see, but that had all the vicious malevolence of a demon. Opposite the
base of Sentinel Hill the tracks left the road, and there was a fresh
bending and matting visible along the broad swath marking the monster's
former route to and from the summit. Armitage produced a pocket telescope of considerable power and scanned
the steep green side of the hill. Then he handed the instrument to
Morgan, whose sight was keener. After a moment of gazing Morgan cried
out sharply, passing the glass to Earl Sawyer and indicating a certain
spot on the slope with his finger. Sawyer, as clumsy as most non-users
of optical devices are, fumbled a while; but eventually focused the
lenses with Armitage's aid. When he did so his cry was less restrained
than Morgan's had been. "Gawd almighty, the grass an' bushes is a-movin'! It's a-goin'
up--slow-like--creepin' up ter the top this minute, heaven only knows
what fer!" Then the germ of panic seemed to spread among the seekers. It was one
thing to chase the nameless entity, but quite another to find it. Spells might be all right--but suppose they weren't? Voices began
questioning Armitage about what he knew of the thing, and no reply
seemed quite to satisfy. Everyone seemed to feel himself in close
proximity to phases of nature and of being utterly forbidden, and
wholly outside the sane experience of mankind. 10

In the end the three men from Arkham--old, white-bearded Dr.
Armitage, stocky, iron-gray Professor Rice, and lean, youngish Dr.
Morgan--ascended the mountain alone. After much patient instruction
regarding its focusing and use, they left the telescope with the
frightened group that remained in the road; and as they climbed they
were watched closely by those among whom the glass was passed around. It was hard going, and Armitage had to be helped more than once. High
above the toiling group the great swath trembled as its hellish maker
repassed with snail-like deliberateness.