A Kentucky Colonel in King Arthur’s Court and The Swamp Maiden of Venus

Suddenly he seemed to be leveling off, the velocity slowing. Simultaneously, as his back touched something, he began skidding over some surface. Perhaps half a minute passed. Suddenly, his body was at rest. Lying on his back, still grasping the burlap sack, Hal became aware of a sharp coldness about his legs and arms and against his back. At the same time, he felt light, feathery dabs upon his face. Opening his eyes, he rose upon an elbow and saw large flakes of snow drifting downward and adding to the whiteness about him. Nearby rose the black, barren 22 Kenneth Tucker trunks and branches of trees. It was nighttime, but an apparently huge full moon provided more-than-adequate illumination. Staggering erect, Hal glanced about. He was in a forest. What had happened? Had he gone to the engagement party and made a dad-blamed fool of himself by getting pie-eyed drunk and somehow ending up in the wilderness? But no! It was late March, and snow seldom returned to the Ohio Valley after the middle of the month. And he, Brünnhilde, and Wolfy— why, they had never reached the Madrid Ballroom! They had stopped off at Monte’s to obtain the so-called fertility potion. He had sat down to watch the boiling beaker of whatever slop Monte was cooking; the chemical had boiled over, spilled on him, and then— Hal shuddered—but not solely because of the icy air. Something strange, something altogether unaccountable had happened—that is, unless he was as mad as Herod. He patted himself to see if he were dreaming, then noted that he still wore his topcoat over the tuxedo and still held the burlap bag. Only his top hat was missing. Then he recalled having hung it on the clothes tree amid rising clutter just inside the door to Monte’s apartment. Thank God he hadn’t likewise hung the topcoat! For the snow about his feet was nearly four inches deep. He glanced about. He was in a small clearing, but something strange drew his thoughts. Clearly he had experienced the sensation of sliding, sliding a long distance before coming to rest. But in the soft moonlight, upon the ground, he saw only the imprint of his body. No groove trailed behind it; no trace whatsoever existed of his unaccountable slide. Again he was compelled to ask himself what had happened. The chemical had dripped on his trouser leg, and he had begun disappearing. My God, one of Monte’s concoctions had actually worked! It had removed him from the world he knew and sent him—in God’s name!—where? Hal took several rambling footsteps forward, then stopped as an unaccustomed but recognizable sound enhanced the chill starting down his spine. It was a long, wailing, but menacing howl! The howl of a wolf! Not near, not distant, but clearly within the vicinity. Another one, more distant, replied.