The boatmen sing tonight." This in itself was an odd occurrence, but it developed that the hunchback was quite mad, and so Randeur again scoffed at what the professor said. The boatmen that the hunchback referred to are the ghosts of those slavish men, or rather, half-men, half-beasts, who were treated as animals by the nobility of Russia; the men forced to pull the heavily laden boats of the nobility up the Volga. There are no such boatmen now, although they still existed in 1917. Randeur questioned Professor Boursky-Maminoff and he learned that the peasants believed that whenever the boatmen sing it is a sign of death. The professor told Randeur that their singing had never failed to bring death. Of course, you can well imagine what an effect this had on Randeur—none at all. He waved it away, but!
On the following day Randolph Smith, our best patrolman, apparently accidentally fell from the framework at the extreme outer edge of the dam into the swirling current below, and was whisked away in the space of a moment. I say apparently, because we do not know. Randeur was stunned for a moment, but he blamed it upon coincidence. However, he endeavored to keep it from Professor Boursky-Maminoff, but the professor heard of it and came directly to Randeur, and again implored him to cease his task. But Randeur would hear none of it.
Last night while the professor was speaking to our manager, the hunchback came again, shrieking his unearthly warning. And even as he spoke, the professor paled, and muttered that he, too, heard them chanting in the distance; and we looked at the river, but there was nothing there.
And today, Mr. Downes, the entire left end of the dam has gone out, the stronger side, wiped out completely! And the men have all quit, but Randeur is still there; he is going to build that dam, he says!
Hoping that you will soon find a man to fill the unfortunate vacancy left by me, I remain,
Very cordially and sincerely yours,
Randeur saw the last of his men leave him, and he moved angrily toward the cottage. He sat there some time, mumbling over his charts and plans. After a while he came out and looked about him: up at the remainder of the dam, and at the river flowing by as peacefully as ever, and at the sky to see if there were any signs of storm; but the sky was clear, and away in the distance in the purple haze about the mountains the full moon was rising. And he looked toward the town, and there he saw what he dreaded to see: the dark figure of the mad hunchback moving toward him over the sand. He stood very quietly until the figure came up to him. His eyes were wide with excitement, and his straggly hair framed a pockmarked face; his huge distended nose squatted above his thin, bloodless lips, like a vulture over some half-devoured corpse; his lips opened and closed as he came, and his three remaining teeth were displayed in their rotting gums; his clothes were dirty, ragged, and he wore neither shoes nor stockings. The ungainly hump on his back stuck out prominently. He spoke in a nervous frenzy of fury.
"The boatmen chant again tonight. Do you hear them? Death is in the air. Death! And the river seethes in anger, and it will rise against you tonight. And you are alone in the path of the river! Death!"
Randeur cursed him, and raised his hand in a threatening gesture. The hunchback sped away, and as he ran, he shouted, and Randeur heard the ominous cry echo far in the distance.
"Death! Death! Death!" And a harsh laugh sounded after it, and Randeur shuddered.
