Four Men in a Cave

by Stephen Crane

　　

---

LIKEWISE FOUR QUEENS, AND A SULLIVAN COUNTY HERMITThe moon rested for a moment on the top of a tall pine on a hill.The little man was standing in front of the campfire making orations tohis companions."We can tell a great tale when we get back to the city if we investigatethis thing," said he, in conclusion.They were won.The little man was determined to explore a cave, because its black mouthhad gaped at him. The four men took a lighted pine-knot and clamberedover boulders down a hill. In a thicket on the mountainside lay a littletilted hole. At its side they halted."Well?" said the little man.They fought for last place and the little man was overwhelmed. He triedto struggle from under by crying that if the fat, pudgy man came after,he would be corked. But he finally administered a cursing over hisshoulder and crawled into the hole. His companions gingerly followed.A passage, the floor of damp clay and pebbles, the walls slimy, green-mossed, and dripping, sloped downward. In the cave atmosphere thetorches became studies in red blaze and black smoke."Ho!" cried the little man, stifled and bedraggled, "let's go back." Hiscompanions were not brave. They were last. The next one to the littleman pushed him on, so the little man said sulphurous words andcautiously continued his crawl.Things that hung seemed to be on the wet, uneven ceiling, ready to dropupon the men's bare necks. Under their hands the clammy floor seemedalive and writhing. When the little man endeavored to stand erect theceiling forced him down. Knobs and points came out and punched him. Hisclothes were wet and mud-covered, and his eyes, nearly blinded by smoke,tried to pierce the darkness always before his torch."Oh, I say, you fellows, let's go back," cried he. At that moment hecaught the gleam of trembling light in the blurred shadows before him."Ho!" he said, "here's another way out."The passage turned abruptly. The little man put one hand around thecorner, but it touched nothing. He investigated and discovered that thelittle corridor took a sudden dip down a hill. At the bottom shone ayellow light.The little man wriggled painfully about, and descended feet in advance.The others followed his plan. All picked their way with anxious care.The traitorous rocks rolled from beneath the little man's feet androared thunderously below him, lesser stone loosened by the men abovehim, hit him on the back. He gained seemingly firm foothold, and,turning halfway about, swore redly at his companions for dolts andcareless fools. The pudgy man sat, puffing and perspiring, high in therear of the procession. The fumes and smoke from four pine-knots were inhis blood. Cinders and sparks lay thick in his eyes and hair. The pauseof the little man angered him."Go on, you fool!" he shouted. "Poor, painted man, you are afraid.""Ho!" said the little man. "Come down here and go on yourself,imbecile!"The pudgy man vibrated with passion. He leaned downward. "Idiot--"He was interrupted by one of his feet which flew out and crashed intothe man in front of and below. It is not well to quarrel upon a slipperyincline, when the unknown is below. The fat man, having lost the supportof one pillar-like foot, lurched forward. His body smote the next man,who hurtled into the next man. Then they all fell upon the cursinglittle man.They slid in a body down over the slippery, slimy floor of the passage.The stone avenue must have wibble-wobbled with the rush of this ball oftangled men and strangled cries. The torches went out with the combinedassault upon the little man. The adventurers whirled to the unknown indarkness. The little man felt that he was pitching to death, but even inhis convolutions he bit and scratched at his companions, for he wassatisfied that it was their fault. The swirling mass went some twentyfeet, and lit upon a level, dry place in a strong, yellow light ofcandles. It dissolved and became eyes.The four men lay in a heap upon the floor of a grey chamber. A smallfire smoldered in the corner, the smoke disappearing in a crack. Inanother corner was a bed of faded hemlock boughs and two blankets.Cooking utensils and clothes lay about, with boxes and a barrel.Of these things the four men took small cognisance. The pudgy man didnot curse the little man, nor did the little man swear, in the abstract.Eight widened eyes were fixed upon the center of the room of rocks.A great, gray stone, cut squarely, like an altar, sat in the middle ofthe floor. Over it burned three candles, in swaying tin cups hung fromthe ceiling. Before it, with what seemed to be a small volume clasped inhis yellow fingers, stood a man. He was an infinitely sallow person inthe brown-checked shirt of the ploughs and cows. The rest of his apparelwas boots. A long grey beard dangled from his chin. He fixed glinting,fiery eyes upon the heap of men, and remained motionless. Fascinated,their tongues cleaving, their blood cold, they arose to their feet. Thegleaming glance of the recluse swept slowly over the group until itfound the face of the little man. There it stayed and burned.The little man shrivelled and crumpled as the dried leaf under theglass.Finally, the recluse slowly, deeply spoke. It was a true voice from acave, cold, solemn, and damp."It's your ante," he said."What?" said the little man.The hermit tilted his beard and laughed a laugh that was either thechatter of a banshee in a storm or the rattle of pebbles in a tin box.His visitors' flesh seemed ready to drop from their bones.They huddled together and cast fearful eyes over their shoulders. Theywhispered."A vampire!" said one."A ghoul!" said another."A Druid before the sacrifice," murmured another."The shade of an Aztec witch doctor," said the little man.As they looked, the inscrutable face underwent a change. It became alivid background for his eyes, which blazed at the little man likeimpassioned carbuncles. His voice arose to a howl of ferocity. "It'syour ante!" With a panther-like motion he drew a long, thin knife andadvanced, stooping. Two cadaverous hounds came from nowhere, and,scowling and growling, made desperate feints at the little man's legs.His quaking companions pushed him forward.Tremblingly he put his hand to his pocket."How much?" he said, with a shivering look at the knife that glittered.The carbuncles faded."Three dollars," said the hermit, in sepulchral tones which rang againstthe walls and among the passages, awakening long-dead spirits withvoices. The shaking little man took a roll of bills from a pocket andplaced "three ones" upon the altar-like stone. The recluse looked at thelittle volume with reverence in his eyes. It was a pack of playingcards.Under the three swinging candles, upon the altar-like stone, the greybeard and the agonized little man played at poker. The three other mencrouched in a corner, and stared with eyes that gleamed with terror.Before them sat the cadaverous hounds licking their red lips. Thecandles burned low, and began to flicker. The fire in the cornerexpired.Finally, the game came to a point where the little man laid down hishand and quavered: "I can't call you this time, sir. I'm dead broke.""What?" shrieked the recluse. "Not call me! Villain Dastard! Cur! I havefour queens, miscreant." His voice grew so mighty that it could not fithis throat. He choked wrestling with his lungs for a moment. Then thepower of his body was concentrated in a word: "Go!"He pointed a quivering, yellow finger at a wide crack in the rock. Thelittle man threw himself at it with a howl. His erstwhile frozencompanions felt their blood throb again. With great bounds they plungedafter the little man. A minute of scrambling, falling, and pushingbrought them to open air. They climbed the distance to their camp infurious springs.The sky in the east was a lurid yellow. In the west the footprints ofdeparting night lay on the pine trees. In front of their replenishedcamp fire sat John Willerkins, the guide."Hello!" he shouted at their approach. "Be you fellers ready to go deerhuntin'?"Without replying, they stopped and debated among themselves in whispers.Finally, the pudgy man came forward."John," he inquired, "do you know anything peculiar about this cavebelow here?""Yes," said Willerkins at once; "Tom Gardner.""What?" said the pudgy man."Tom Gardner.""How's that?""Well, you see," said Willerkins slowly, as he took dignified pulls athis pipe, "Tom Gardner was once a fambly man, who lived in these hereparts on a nice leetle farm. He uster go away to the city orften, andone time he got a-gamblin' in one of them there dens. He went ter thedickens right quick then. At last he kum home one time and tol' hisfolks he had up and sold the farm and all he had in the worl'. Hisleetle wife she died then. Tom he went crazy, and soon after--"The narrative was interrupted by the little man, who became possessed ofdevils."I wouldn't give a cuss if he had left me 'nough money to get home onthe doggoned, grey-haired red pirate," he shrilled, in a seethingsentence. The pudgy man gazed at the little man calmly and sneeringly."Oh, well," he said, "we can tell a great tale when we get back to thecity after having investigated this thing.""Go to the devil," replied the little man.

---

Four Men in a Cave was featured as TheShort Story of the Day on Mon, Nov 23, 2015

---