, his condescension, his whole hatefulness angered me. I
could now no longer control my feeling. "Oh! You _know_, do you?" I
sneered. "On such a subject as this you're entitled to _know_, are you?
Don't make me laugh!" I finished insultingly. I was aroused. And I'm a
big fellow, with no reason to fear ordinary men.

"Yes, I know!" came back his echoing, scratching voice.

"How do you know? Maybe you've been--?"

"Yes, I have!" he answered, his voice breaking to a squeak. "Take a good
look at me, gentlemen. A good look." He knew now that he held the center
of the stage, that the moment was his. Slowly he raised an arm to remove
that ridiculous hat. Again I jumped to my feet. For as his coat sleeve
slipped down his forearm I saw nothing but bone supporting his hand. And
the hand that then bared his head was a skeleton hand! Slowly the hat
was lifted, but as quickly as light six able-bodied men were on their
feet and half way to the door before we realized the cowardliness of it.
We forced ourselves back inside the store very slowly, all of us rather
ashamed of our ridiculous and childlike fear.

But it was all enough to make the blood curdle, with that live, dead
thing sitting there by our fire. His face and skull were nothing but
bone, the eyes deeply sunk into their sockets, the dull-brown skin like
parchment in its tautness, drawn and shriveled down onto the nose and
jaw. There were no cheeks. Just hollows. The mouth was a sharp slit
beneath the flat nose. He was hideous.

"Come back and I'll tell you my yarn," he mocked, the slit that was his
mouth opening a little to show us the empty, blackened gums. "I've been
dead once," he went on, getting a lot of satisfaction from the weirdness
of the lie and from our fear, "and _I_ came back. Come and sit down and
I'll explain why I'm this living skeleton."

* * * * *

We came back slowly, and as I did I slipped my hand into my outside
pocket where I had a revolver. I put my finger in on the trigger and got
ready to use the vicious little thing. I was on edge and torn to pieces
completely by the sight of the man, and I doubt not that had he made a
move towards me my frayed nerves would have plugged him full of lead. I
eyed my friends. They were in no better way than was I. Fright and
horror stood on each face. Hammersly was worst. His hands were
twitching, his eyes were like bright glass, his face bleached and drawn.

"I've quite a yarn t