The Wind That Tramps the World
During the days that followed John Steppling felt as though he were living in a dream. The house, the moon-lantern, Hi Ling all seemed but wraiths in a rather pleasant sleep. Hi Ling had not insisted on his staying, though he took his continued presence as a matter of course. Every night before they supped, Hi Ling opened the massive windows of the room of 'The Jade Vase' and the Winds came tumbling through. Night after night the self-same happenings were repeated and yet they never seemed to grow monotonous. Hi Ling endeavored to teach him the art of listening, but his efforts were in vain.
One night as Hi Ling opened the windows the blast that drove in was so intense that it shook the house as though it had been on rockers. It bellowed and roared like a lion with a thorn in its foot. It seemed wild. By comparison the other winds which had drifted through seemed to possess much culture. The moon-lantern swayed perilously.
Hi Ling seized Steppling's arm. His face was more cadaverous and drawn than ever. His fingers bit into the flesh like talons.
"It is the Wind!" he muttered hoarsely.
How can one describe the events that followed? Hi Ling seemed to have gone stark raving mad. He pranced about the room as agilely as an ape in a jungle swamp. His mouth was drawn back until his decayed yellow teeth showed like fangs. All the while he
chanted a wild weird refrain which occasionally rose
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