Other Worlds Read Online Free PDF Page B

rather looked forward to seeing the traducer "taken care of."
    The Spirit bided its time until after the family had gone to bed. The house was so full of sightseers that Mrs. Bell had been forced to place straw mattresses on the floor of the reception room. The "professional detective" had one of these luxurious pallets to himself; he was too stout to share with anyone. No sooner had the lights been put out than the other guests heard unearthly cries from Williams. The Spirit was holding him down, pounding him, and cursing.
    A candle was brought. The pounding stopped, but the Spirit's profane comments on Williams's character continued. The terrified detective spent the rest of the night sitting up in a chair with a lighted candle at his side. He left at daybreak, refusing the Bells' kind invitation to breakfast.
    The most famous of the curiosity seekers was General Andrew Jackson, who had been John Junior's commander-in-chief at New Orleans. "Old Hickory" was no stranger to scandal; his violent temper had led to several duels, and his impetuous emotions had caused him to marry a lady before her divorce from her former husband was final.
    The distinguished military man came with a large entourage and a wagon loaded with equipment. The cavalcade had almost reached the house when the horses came to a stop and could not be persuaded to move, though there was nothing impeding their progress.
    "It's the witch," one of the party exclaimed.
    From the bushes along the roadside a voice called, "All right. They can go on now, General."
    And they did.
    The Bells welcomed their honored guest and gave him a good dinner. There was no question of the General pitching a tent in the meadow; the best guest room was none too good for such a man. Before retiring, the company gathered around the fire, and we need not wonder what the subject of the conversation must have been.
    One of the General's followers was in the same profession as Jack Busby—witch killing. He was a big man with fiery eyes and a hawklike nose. Like Busby, he relied on silver bullets. Boastfully he displayed his pistol and said he could hardly wait to try it out.
    There was no comment from the Spirit, and the braggart's boasts grew louder. Jackson, never a patient man, began to fidget. He wanted some action. Suddenly the skeptic jumped up and grabbed the seat of his trousers.
    "Boys, I am being stuck with a thousand pins," he yelled.
    "I am in front of you," said a mocking voice. "Shoot."
    The witch hunter drew his pistol, aimed it, and tried to pull the trigger. The weapon would not fire.
    "It's my night for fun," the Spirit said, chuckling. The victim's head rolled from side to side and the sound of loud slaps was heard. Then, "It is pulling my nose off," screamed the witch hunter. He made a break for the door, which obligingly opened for him. As he ran screaming toward the wagon the voice jeered and hooted at him.
    Jackson roared with laughter. "I have never heard or seen of anything so funny and mysterious," he exclaimed in delight. "I'd like to stay a week."
    Though Mr. Bell must have resented being regarded as a source of entertainment, he assured his tactless guest that he was welcome to stay as long as he liked.
    The Spirit was agreeable, too. "There is another fraud in your party, General," it commented. "I'll get him tomorrow night. It is getting late now; go to bed."
    During the night General Jackson had a change of heart. One can hardly suspect the hero of New Orleans of being a coward, so it must have been someone else in the party who was afraid of being found out, and who persuaded the General to abandon the visit. However, he later admitted that he had felt a few qualms.
    "By the Eternal, I saw nothing; but I heard enough to convince me that I'd rather fight the British than deal with this torment they call the Bell Witch."

SEVEN
    N OW I will admit, gentlemen, that these stories have a questionable air about them—an aura of the apocryphal, one might say.