Жах Данвіча
Chapter 7
IallussaysCol’SpringGlenain’tnohealthynordecentplace. Thewhippoorwillsan’firefliesthereneverdidactliketheywascreaterso’Gawd,an’they’sthemassaysyekinhearstrangethingsa-rushin’an’a-talkin’intheairdawontharefyestandintherightplace,atweentherockfallsan’Bear’sDen.’
Bythatnoonfullythree-quartersofthemenandboysofDunwichweretroopingovertheroadsandmeadowsbetweenthenewmadeWhateleyruinsandColdSpringGlen,examininginhorrorthevast,monstrousprints,themaimedBishopcattle,thestrange,noisomewreckofthefarmhouse,andthebruised,mattedvegetationofthefieldsandroadside. Whateverhadburstlooseupontheworldhadassuredlygonedownintothegreatsinisterravine; forallthetreesonthebankswerebentandbroken,andagreatavenuehadbeengougedintheprecipice-hangingunderbrush. Itwasasthoughahouse,launchedbyanavalanche,hadsliddownthroughthetangledgrowthsofthealmostverticalslope. Frombelownosoundcame,butonlyadistant,undefinablefoetor; anditisnottobewonderedatthatthemenpreferredtostayontheedgeandargue,ratherthandescendandbeardtheunknownCyclopeanhorrorinitslair. Threedogsthatwerewiththepartyhadbarkedfuriouslyatfirst,butseemedcowedandreluctantwhenneartheglen.
