Part 24

A few hours later the enthusiastic little man, after a forced bicycle-ride under the scorching sun of a suffocating July day, finds himself among fragrant iris and bog-myrtle. Accompanied by a local peat-digger, who, from fear of the monster, has armed himself with a gun, he turns off by one of the paths.

The wind is blowing through the local jungle, and rustling its myriads of leaves with a sound that to the editor’s ears resembles the continual crumpling of a huge newspaper. The stiff, bluish-green rushes, with their black joints, bend caressingly about him, and the strong, spicy scent of wild mint, mingled with the sharp, acrid vapour from the bog, ascends to his nostrils.

For a moment he stands among the rushes, drawing deep breaths as he listens enraptured to the deafening music of nature. The larks are carolling above his head, and the wild ducks rise with a great deal of splashing and fuss; now a snipe comes sailing past and sinks in a long, concave curve.

A sunbeam finds its way into the jungle, and showers a cascade of shifting, dancing patches of light over him. He perspires and pants, and wipes his forehead; he blows his nose after the manner of primitive man; he has once more become the kind of being that the Almighty called Man, when He placed him on the earth.

At an opening in the rushy margin, where an old, fern-clad ridge runs out into the water, he gets his rod ready.

And now let Grim beware! Here comes a fisherman with shrewdness and intelligence! His clothes are the colour of the heron’s feathers, his rod painted sky-blue, and his line is grey-green like the long stalks of the water-plants.

He creeps along the mossy, boggy bank, taking care to avoid all disturbance of the water. The pike is timid, and easily put to flight, watchful and agile; if he only breaks a reed, if he only lets a snail-shell drop into the water, it will perceive him. He finds out places where he thinks the fish is lying, and expectantly drops his bait beyond the edge of the reeds on the point of land.

The peat-cutter follows him at some distance. He has strict orders on no account to utter a syllable, and to tread with extreme caution and care. He has his gun all ready, for he is thinking with misgiving of all the stories he has heard about the fabulous “serpent.” He recollects that Sidse, old Anders’ girl, has seen it. She was watering the cows when it shot up out of the deep water with a splash, and shook itself like a dog. She had distinctly heard the jingling of the scales in its mane.

And Ole, the wheelwright, too.

“Such a head!” he had said. “As big as a calf’s! And the skin round the corners of its mouth all in great, thick folds!” As to its eyes, he had said they were yellow like those of a hare.

He must remember to tell that to the newspaper-man.

At that moment he hears a warning whistle, the signal to stop and remain where he is, so as not to spoil possible chances by his sudden appearance.

An electric shock has darted through the sportsman, and for a moment he stands as if petrified, in keen suspense.

He has felt a bite, and with lowered rod he slowly and carefully lets out plenty of line.

The pike has taken the bait, or so he firmly believes; but he waits minute after minute, and the line never moves.

Alas! the hook is caught in something! His best and strongest hook, selected from among hundreds for this very expedition! In vain he employs every artifice; he cannot free it. He will have to give up his fishing and abandon the line.

What an embarrassing story to have to tell! People have such nasty tongues. And the peat-digger over there! No, that would be too much! Besides, this suffocating heat has long tempted him to have a bath out here, so he promptly strips and goes in. He is swimming along the edge of the reeds where there is a little open water, when all at once he feels his left leg seized. It is as though a pair of garden shears had suddenly cut into it!

Involuntarily he begins to shout and kick, but the next moment he is dragged out and down towards deep water. He feels the teeth of the monster sinking deeper and deeper into his leg, and is on the point of losing his senses as he cries aloud for help.

The peat-cutter hurries up with all possible speed, just in time to catch the outline of a long, black shadow, working under water. At haphazard he fires off both charges. At the same time the editor shrieks still more horribly, and raises himself in the water. A cold, sharp edge, as of a knife, is drawn along his body, as Grim, frightened by the shots, disappears beneath him.

Other peat-cutters come up, and together they pull the unfortunate editor ashore. The blood is spouting from his leg in several places, but one of the men ties his trouser-strap round it. Some one telephones for a doctor, a carriage is fetched, and the editor is then driven to his home.

The wound was a serious one. The doctor had to wash and bandage it. On the outer side of the calf, the deep marks of Grim’s upper teeth were visible, in two rows at a distance of more than a hand’s breadth from one another, wound after wound, going deep into the flesh. It was clearly the bite from the jaws of some great animal.

The oracle’s prophecy that the editor would get a bite had in truth been fulfilled!

* * * * *

This occurrence put fresh life into the stories circulating in the district about the escaped crocodile, or the serpent, or the dragon, that always frequented black bogs.

The monster must be removed. For a long time cattle and horses had not been safe when they came to the watering-places; and now it attacked people when bathing!

What sort of an animal was it?

People demanded that the local board should provide them with an ocular demonstration.

Several of the holes were emptied, but they were the wrong ones. Through others nets were drawn with a team of horses at each end. Grim was almost caught two or three times, and only saved herself by burrowing into the mud, and letting the net pass over her.