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The Book of Dreams and Ghosts
·
Andrew Lang
287
"I
slept,
but
was
anew
awakened
by
a
ghastly
feeling
that
the
blanket
was
being
dragged
and
creeping
off
the
bed.
I
pulled
it
up
again,
but
anew
began
the
slow
movement
of
descent.
"Rather
surprised,
I
pulled
it
up
afresh
and
held
it,
and
must
have
dozed
off,
as
I
suppose.
Awoke,
to
feel
it
being
pulled
again;
it
was
slipping,
slipping,
and
then
with
a
sudden,
violent
jerk
it
was
thrown
on
the
floor.
Il
faut
dire
that
during
all
this
I
had
glanced
several
times
at
Bolter,
who
seemed
profoundly
asleep.
But
now
alarmed
I
tried
to
wake
him.
In
vain,
he
slept
like
the
dead;
his
face,
always
a
pasty
white,
now
like
marble
in
the
moonlight.
After
some
hesitation
I
put
the
blanket
back
on
the
bed
and
held
it
fast.
The
pulling
at
once
began
and
increased
in
strength,
and
I,
by
this
time
thoroughly
alarmed,
put
all
my
strength
against
it,
and
hung
on
like
grim
death.
"To
get
a
better
hold
I
had
taken
a
turn
over
my
head
(or
perhaps
simply
to
hide),
when
suddenly
I
felt
a
pressure
outside
on
my
body,
and
a
movement
like
fingers--they
gradually
approached
my
head.
Mad
with
fear
I
chucked
off
the
blanket,
grasped
a
Hand,
gazed
on
it
for
one
moment
in
silent
horror,
and
threw
it
away!
No
wonder,
it
was
attached
to
no
arm
or
body,
it
was
hairy
and
dark
coloured,
the
fingers
were
short,
blunt,
with
long,
claw-like
nails,
and
it
was
minus
a
thumb!
Too
frightened
to
get
up
I
had
to
stop
in
bed,
and,
I
suppose,
fell
to
sleep
again,
after
fresh
vain
attempts
to
awaken
Bolter.
Next
morning
I
told
him
about
it.
He
said
several
men
who
had
thus
passed
the
night
with
him
had
seen
this
hand.
'But,'
added
he,
'it's
lucky
you
didn't
have
the
big
black
dogs
also.'
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