Charles Ashmore's trail by Ambrose bears. The family of Christian Ashmore consisted of his
wife, his mother, two grown daughters, and a son of sixteen years.
They lived in Troy, New York, were well to do, respectable
persons, and had many friends, some of whom reading these lines will doubtless
learn for the first time the extraordinary fate of the young man. From Troy,
the Ashmore Is moved in eighteen seventy one or eighteen seventy two to Richmond,
Indiana, and a year or two later to the vicinity of Quincy,
Illinois, where mister Ashmore bought a farm and lived on it. At some
little distance from the farmhouse was a spring with a constant flow of clear,
cold water, whence the family derived its supply for domestic use at all seasons.
On the evening of the ninth of November eighteen seventy eight, at about
nine o'clock, young Charles Ashmore left the family circle about the hearth, took
a tin bucket, and started toward the spring. As he did not return,
the family became uneasy, and going to the door by which he had
left the house, his father called, without receiving an answer, He then
lighted a lantern, and with the eldest daughter, Martha, who insisted on
accompanying him, went in search a light. Snow had fallen, obliterating the
path, but making the young man's trail conspicuous. Each footprint was clearly defined.
After going a little more than half way, perhaps seventy five yards,
the father, who was in advance, halted and elevating his lantern, stood
peering intently 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
were as conspicuous as any in the line. The very nail marks were distinctly
visible. Mister Ashmore looked upward, shading his eyes with his hat held between
them and the lantern. The stars were shining. There was no cloud in
the sky. He was denied the explanation, which had suggested itself doubtful,
as it would have been a new snowfall with a limit so plainly defined.
Taking a wide circuit round the ultimate tracks so as to leave them undisturbed for
further examination, the man proceeded to the spring the girl following, weak and
terrified. Neither had spoken a word of what both observed. The spring was
covered with eyes hours old. Returning to the house, they noted the appearance
of the snow on both sides 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 spring for water. She came back and related that
in passing the spot where the footprints had ended, she had heard the voice
of her son, and had been eagerly calling to him, wandering about the
place as she had fancied the voice to be now in one direction, now
in another, until she was exhausted with fatigue and emotion. Questioned as to
what the voice had said, she was unable to tell, yet aver that
the words were perfectly distinct. In a moment, the entire family was at
the place, but nothing was heard, and the voice was believed to be
an hallucination caused by the mother's great anxiety and her disordered nerves. But for
months afterwards, at irregular intervals of a few days, the voice was heard
by several members of the family, and by others, all declared it was
unmistakably the voice of Charles Ashmore. All agreed that it seemed to come from
a great distance, faintly, yet with entire distinctness of articulation. Yet none
could determine its direction, nor repeat its words. The intervals of silence grew
longer and longer, the voice fainter and fainter, and by Midsummer it was
heard no more. If anyone knows the fate of Charles Ashmore, it is
probably his mother. She is dead. The End of Charles Ashmore's Trail by Ambrose Bearce