Charles Ashmore's Trail

by Ambrose Bierce

　　

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The family of Christian Ashmore consisted of his wife, his mother,two grown daughters, and a son of sixteen years. They lived inTroy, New York, were well-to-do, respectable persons, and had manyfriends, some of whom, reading these lines, will doubtless learn forthe first time the extraordinary fate of the young man. From Troythe Ashmores moved in 1871 or 1872 to Richmond, Indiana, and a yearor two later to the vicinity of Quincy, Illinois, where Mr. Ashmorebought a farm and lived on it. At some little distance from thefarmhouse was a spring with a constant flow of clear, cold water,whence the family derived its supply for domestic use at allseasons.On the evening of the 9th of November in 1878, at about nineo'clock, young Charles Ashmore left the family circle about thehearth, took a tin bucket and started toward the spring. As he didnot return, the family became uneasy, and going to the door by whichhe had left the house, his father called without receiving ananswer. He then lighted a lantern and with the eldest daughter,Martha, who insisted on accompanying him, went in search. A lightsnow had fallen, obliterating the path, but making the young man'strail conspicuous; each footprint was plainly defined. After goinga little more than half-way--perhaps seventy-five yards--the father,who was in advance, halted, and elevating his lantern stood peeringintently into the darkness ahead."What is the matter, father?" the girl asked.This was the matter: the trail of the young man had abruptly ended,and all beyond was smooth, unbroken snow. The last footprints wereas conspicuous as any in the line; the very nail-marks weredistinctly visible. Mr. Ashmore looked upward, shading his eyeswith his hat held between them and the lantern. The stars wereshining; there was not a cloud in the sky; he was denied theexplanation which had suggested itself, doubtful as it would havebeen--a new snowfall with a limit so plainly defined. Taking a widecircuit round the ultimate tracks, so as to leave them undisturbedfor further examination, the man proceeded to the spring, the girlfollowing, weak and terrified. Neither had spoken a word of whatboth had observed. The spring was covered with ice, hours old.Returning to the house they noted the appearance of the snow on bothsides of the trail its entire length. No tracks led away from it.The morning light showed nothing more. Smooth, spotless, unbroken,the shallow snow lay everywhere.Four days later the grief-stricken mother herself went to the springfor water. She came back and related that in passing the spot wherethe footprints had ended she had heard the voice of her son and hadbeen eagerly calling to him, wandering about the place, as she hadfancied the voice to be now in one direction, now in another, untilshe was exhausted with fatigue and emotion.Questioned as to what the voice had said, she was unable to tell,yet averred that the words were perfectly distinct. In a moment theentire family was at the place, but nothing was heard, and the voicewas believed to be an hallucination caused by the mother's greatanxiety and her disordered nerves. But for months afterward, atirregular intervals of a few days, the voice was heard by theseveral members of the family, and by others. All declared itunmistakably the voice of Charles Ashmore; all agreed that it seemedto come from a great distance, faintly, yet with entire distinctnessof articulation; yet none could determine its direction, nor repeatits words. The intervals of silence grew longer and longer, thevoice fainter and farther, and by midsummer it was heard no more.If anybody knows the fate of Charles Ashmore it is probably hismother. She is dead.

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