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Twain, Mark, 1835-1910

"Sketches New and Old"

The tug strengthened to a steady strain--it grew
stronger and stronger. My hold parted, and for the third time the
blankets slid away. I groaned. An answering groan came from the foot of
the bed! Beaded drops of sweat stood upon my forehead. I was more dead
than alive. Presently I heard a heavy footstep in my room--the step of
an elephant, it seemed to me--it was not like anything human. But it was
moving from me--there was relief in that. I heard it approach the door
--pass out without moving bolt or lock--and wander away among the dismal
corridors, straining the floors and joists till they creaked again as it
passed--and then silence reigned once more.
When my excitement had calmed, I said to myself, "This is a dream--simply
a hideous dream." And so I lay thinking it over until I convinced myself
that it was a dream, and then a comforting laugh relaxed my lips and I
was happy again. I got up and struck a light; and when I found that the
locks and bolts were just as I had left them, another soothing laugh
welled in my heart and rippled from my lips. I took my pipe and lit it,
and was just sitting down before the fire, when-down went the pipe out of
my nerveless fingers, the blood forsook my cheeks, and my placid
breathing was cut short with a gasp! In the ashes on the hearth, side by
side with my own bare footprint, was another, so vast that in comparison
mine was but an infant's! Then I had had a visitor, and the elephant
tread was explained.


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