 The weird circle, in this cave by the restless sea, we are met to call from out the past stories, strange and weird. Bellkeeper, hold the bell so all may know we are gathered again in the weird circle. Tantums of a world gone by speak again their immortal tale, the thing in the tunnel. Listen, that's the long morning whistle of the through express, wailing through the lonesome night, crying like a lost and anguished soul in the mountains. Listen to me, I've heard that mournful crying for ten years and each time it reminds me of McGregor. Yeah, it reminds me of McGregor. My name's Kelsey, Howard Kelsey. I live out here solitary and alone because I like it. I hear nothing but the wind and the passenger and freight trains roaring through the canyons and the royals of the Clearwater Rain and, of course, myself. I'm a lonely man, sure. I got too many memories. Ah, there she comes. She's through the tunnel now. The Statesman Express, twelve car Pullman roaring like a blast of thunder for home. Ah, McGregor. McGregor, are you flagging her through once more? I met McGregor by accident. In those days I was new to this country and I lived here with a fellow named Pike, an old-time prospector. He had a voice of sandpaper and a heart of stone. He didn't like me and I didn't like him, but prospecting kept us together for a time. Nonetheless, we went out separately and sometimes two or three days went by before we saw each other again. I first met McGregor on one of those trips. I'd come through some valley in the Clearwater Range and, just as day was beginning to fall, I found myself on top of a steep embankment overlooking a gleaming set of rails. The air was dead silent. The mountains around me purple and velvet soft and the setting sun. It was all so still and so silent that, for a moment I felt the whole world had died. But just then suddenly I saw somebody move down by the tracks. I cried, hello below there, hello. The man spun about and stared up the track in the opposite direction. I called again, hello below there, hello. The man spun about again and this time he saw me. How do I get down there? Over to your left, Mr. Pat. All right, thanks. I'll be down in a minute. The whistle called just as I began to descend. A rumble filled the air and just as I reached the railbed, I saw the tunnel hewn out of mountain rough and plunging from the tunnel's mouth like some black terrible monster roared a train, tore by me in a duffing roar. Then when it was passed, directly opposite on the other side of the track stood the man I'd just called. And he was staring at me strangely. He was short and dark skinned and his eyes were sunk deep in his head. He wore a sheepskin coat and an old fedora and he was holding a signal flag. Hello, my name's Kelsey. Hello. I was just kind of wandering and well I saw you and I called and... I work here. Oh, well, kind of lonely, isn't it? It is. What do you do? Don't you know? What? Well, should I? Oh, the flag. Signal man, huh? And telegrapher. I see. Say, look, if I'm breaking any regulation by being here, I mean, well, you look as if I... I was thinking that maybe I've seen you before. Where? Over there. By the tunnel now? Yes. But good Lord man, I've never seen it before. I didn't even know you had a tunnel here. Don't you believe me? I think so. My name is McGregor. Glad to meet you, McGregor. My signal shack's just down the road. I've got some coffee inside. Well, I'd be glad to share some. Like you said, it's lonely here. Very lonely. You see, coffee's ready. Well, can I help or get cups or something? No, no, I'll get them. Tell me, why did you shelf what you did when you were on the embankment? What did I shelf? Hello, below there. Hello. Those were the exact words. Well, I don't know why I shouted them, especially. Are you sure? Yeah, you had no reason? I mean, did you feel that somebody or something was making you shelf just those words? No. What makes you think that something did? They might have. Who might have? Say, look, are you all right, McGregor? I'm all right, fine. It's just... Just what? Look, listen to me. Don't think I'm crazy. You mustn't... Why should I think? It's just, well, when you see something, it's there, isn't it? I mean, it's real when you can see it and hear it. It's not a dream or a nightmare when you can see it there night after night. It's real, isn't it? Isn't it? What in the world are you talking about? Put that coffee down over here. You'll spill it. Say, you'd better put it down and answer your key. Say, look, what's the matter with you? What are you staring at that telegraph key like that? Stop it! Stop it! Stop it! Leave me alone! Let me out! Let me out! McGregor! Well, I stood there and the little shack dumbfounded. And by the time I roused myself out of it, McGregor was coming back. He came into the shack and his face was haggard and his eyes strained wide and unseeing. He shut the door. It's gone. What's gone? What are you talking about, McGregor? Are you sick or something? It was there. I saw it. Why does it come back? Why? Why? Look, sit down and calm yourself. You're not yourself. You'd better answer your telegraph. There's no one to answer. It's him that's doing it. But who is him? Can't you understand it? It's a warning. An accident signal. And he's sending it. He's sending it. Now listen to me. This can't go on. He stands there night after night in the tunnel's mouth and he shouts frantically, Hello below there! Hello! Look out! Clear the track! Clear the track! He's been going on for a week now, standing there and shouting in such an agony. Where's the wind you've been hearing, man? It's not the wind. It's him. Him. He's outside now in the tunnel's mouth. You've been dreaming things. Then look for yourself! Look for yourself! I will. Well, I walked up the tracks toward the tunnel and then I saw it. I stopped dead. And I stared. And there, there, standing in the tunnel's mouth, wrapped in an eerie radiance, stood a figure. I could see him clearly. One hand waving frantically and the other hiding his face. And I could hear his voice like something out of the tomb, pleading. Hello below there! Hello! Look out! Look out! Clear the track! Clear the track! And again that train whistled moaned amongst the hills. And all the time I watched him, he stood there waving, dressed in what seemed to be a short coat and a beaver hat. Look out! Clear the track! Clear the track! McGregor! Bring a lantern, McGregor. He gives his own life. Bring out a lantern. We're going up to him. He must be real. And McGregor brought out a lantern. And up the twin gleaming rails we moved. The lantern cast a one pool of light about us. And as we walked, it shook madly, running long sharp shadows at our feet. And it was cold, it was so cold, my body shivered. My hands were as nervous as an old man's hands. And now the voice of the thing in the tunnel got louder and louder, and it was supportful, hollow sounding and torn with grief. Look out! Look out! McGregor, do you know him? Do you know him at all? He's not real. All week he stood there and called. Clear the track! Clear the track! He's waving his arm in such a frenzy. He's warning me. He's warning me. But of what? Of what? Hello, hello, there. Hello! When we are close to him, sees him. Yes. Yes. Sees him. I'll see him. Stop it, McGregor. Do you hear me? Stop it. Yes, I'll stop. I'll stop. Pull yourself together, man. We'll be near him in a few moments. I'll try. I'll... Where's that whistle from? No trains due now. McGregor. What? Are you ready? Yes. Look out below there. Look out. Clear the tracks. Clear the tracks. Now! I've got... What? What? He's gone. It's gone, Kelsey. Tell him the tunnel. Quick, yes. Banished under my hands. Like a puppy disappeared. I'm McGregor. In the tunnel. Come on. Look sharp, McGregor. He must be in here. He couldn't disappear like that. The dead can. Stop it, McGregor. We'll look about. Do you see anything? You won't find him. You won't. He's not real. You won't find him. You won't. He's dead. He's a ghost. A specter. A vision of death. He's the dead trying to warn me. But of what? Tell me of what? Of what? Of what? We did not find that thing in the tunnel. After a while, we went back to the signal shack. McGregor, I said. Yes. How long have you worked here? Some six months. Why? What brought you to this? I needed a job. There was one here. The other signal man before me was killed. Killed? Yes. A train caught him. Captain Beaver. That was his name. What? What was his name? Captain Beaver. That's what they called him. And I can't... What's the matter? Didn't you notice, McGregor? Notice what? His hat. The thing's hat. What about... Kelsey? Yes, McGregor. It was a beaver hat. A beaver. He's there again. I'm going outside. Wait, wait. The lantern. I want to see. Clear the track. Clear the track. Look, McGregor. Look, his hat. It is, Beaver. I never noticed. Look out. Look out. Then it's him. The other signal man come back from the dead. But why? Why? What's he trying to warn me of? Tell me, Kelsey. Tell me. What is the dead trying to say? At dawn, McGregor's relief came. A young, sullen-looking boy named Carter. They both used a sleeping shack a few hundred yards away from their station. And it was to this shack that McGregor took me. Well, after a while I fell asleep for... I don't know how long until... Kelsey. Kelsey, wake up. It's time. Wake up. What? What is it? What's the matter? It's time for me to go on. Oh. Oh, I feel as if I only just fell asleep. You can stay here if you want to. No. No, I want to go along. Well, there's the nine o'clock express coming through. We better go then. We left soon after. And when we reached the embankment, evening was coming down. And with each step I... I felt my heart thudding. The question loomed in my mind like a flame. Was the thing in the tunnel mouth? Was it there? The evening express screamed again through the hill. And its pitch suddenly seemed lifted to a tense agony. When we reached the tracks, my eyes were streamed with staring. So we went up to the shack. Inside we asked Carter if anything had happened while he was on. Nope, he said, as dull as ever. He shook himself into a heavy mackinac and said so long and walked out. We heard his footsteps feeding. We listened to them as if they were the last living sounds we'd ever hear. And then they were gone. And we stood in the shack, hearing only the whistle of the express coming down the hills. Maybe he won't come tonight. Maybe the things left us at last. Maybe. I dreamed about that all day. Maybe he's given up and I won't ever hear or see him again. Even though you think it's trying to warn you or something? Of what? Of what? What's there to be warned of for a whole week? Maybe it's Saul Alhark, a joke. A dead man's joke. Take it easy, McGregor. Tell me, Kelsey, please tell me. Am I going crazy? Maybe I'm seeing and hearing all this in my own brain. I can't tell anymore. I can't. I'm so tired. It'd be pleasant to escape, to forget. If I am going crazy... McGregor, stop it. If you're mad, then so am I. I've seen the thing. Then what does it want? What does it want? There. There. It's him. It's him again. He's outside. He's come back. McGregor! I raced out after him. He was standing there between the glistening rails and in the tunnel mouth, wrapped in its unearthly radiance, waving and calling. Clean the tracks. Clean the tracks. And then... then I became aware of the faint rumble of a train. The Express. McGregor, get off the tracks! Get off the tracks! Clean the tracks. Clean the tracks. I seized McGregor and I pulled him off. And it was just in time. Like an incredible, fairy-eyed monster, the express engine roared out of the tunnel mouth. Multiple eyes, it plunged past. And then, unbelievably, it happened. I saw the rear cars, as if they were toys, suddenly flung, prittling off the tracks. A fearful grinding and crashing filled the air. And along the embankment, there was a turmoil of twisted steel and fire, a sheet of clean left off. Smoke poured in billowing clouds from the terrible wreckage. And it screamed. It screamed. The night was torn with the cries of the injured and the dying. McGregor, get to your telegraph. Call for help. McGregor! McGregor! So this is what it was warning me about. When you get to your key, there are people dying. Look, look in the tunnel mouth, Kelsey. Look, the thing, the thing's in the tunnel mouth. Fill the cry. Fill the cry. Kelsey, Kelsey, he's still calling it. He's still warning me. This wasn't it. There's something else. There must be something else. With the first sign of dawn, it disappeared, faded. And with the first sign of dawn, full emergency aid reached this lonely station. We worked all through the night and early morning. And it wasn't until mid-afternoon that McGregor and I parted company, he to his shack and I to mine. We promised to meet again soon. But it was some four days before I saw McGregor again. One morning, I heard some rapping on my door. Come in. McGregor. Hello, Kelsey. Come in. It's not the door. He's moved, Kelsey. Moved? The thing, he's moved. He's no longer in the tunnel mouth? No. It's left it. Good. Is it? Well, isn't it? The thing's not in the tunnel mouth anymore. It's gone. Isn't it? It's not gone, Kelsey. What do you mean? Two nights ago, it moved. I don't understand, McGregor. I don't understand it myself, Kelsey. But two nights ago, it wasn't in the tunnel mouth. It appeared further down the tracks. You mean... I mean it appeared closer to me. And it waved and called to me from its new position. Last night, it appeared even nearer in another position. But why? Can't you understand why? It's frantic, Kelsey. Frantic. It can't get me to understand what it wants to warn me of from the tunnel mouth, so it's coming closer. Maybe its time is running out, getting shorter. Shorter. Well, maybe it was only an illusion. Is the thing itself an illusion? No. I tell you, it's trying to reach me to tell me something, Kelsey. You mustn't go back. That's just it. I mustn't stay away. You've got to stay away. Can't you see? Maybe what it wants to tell me will ease it. Maybe it's an anguished, damned soul, and I can free it. I don't know. Maybe it's about a different accident. Or... Or what? Or maybe it's about myself. Maybe it's a message to me. To me alone. Maybe that signalman's come back from the grave just for me. I can't go away. I can't. I've got to wait until it reaches me, until I understand. Until I know. And in the falling dusk, we came down the embankment, hearing at the same time the first signalings of the Northwest Limited, the statesman, winding through the Clearwater Range. We relieved Carter, and after he had gone, we sat down in the shack. Somehow, this night felt uniquely strange. Later on, I knew why. Kelsey, I have a brother back east. If anything should happen, let him know. I'll write his address. Now, stop that nonsense, McGregor. It's not nonsense. I feel it tonight. There's something... You let him know, please. You will, won't you? Well, this is foolish. All right, I will. But nothing is going to happen. That's the statesman. It's in the canyon now. I wish I were on it, going past, never stopping. I wish... Kelsey. Yes? Why don't the dead lie still? Haven't they hit enough of living? What insane desire drives them back again? If you don't leave off these ideas... The telegraph key's all right, isn't it? Why? See if the key's all right, Kelsey. Try it. Tap it. Now, McGregor... No, no, no, no. See? He has to be able to reach me. If the key's not working, how can he? Tap it, tap it. All right. There. It's fine. It works fine. And... And it's strange. Where is he? Where are you going? Outside. I've got to see him. How will you plead his calm? There's something wrong, I know. I've got to reach him. I've got to... McGregor! I'm McGregor the key! Captain Beamer. Where are you? Good-bye, McGregor. Where are you, Beamer? He was calling. Calling the thing. And all at once I was seized with terror. I ran out. There in the moonless night, I saw McGregor walking up the tracks, moving slowly, calling, walking like a lonely, bewildered hunter in the immense starry night of the mountains. Where are you, Captain Beamer? I'm coming. Where are you? But something was wrong. Because the thing was not visible. Even McGregor was aware of it. He halted on, certainly, for a moment, his head turning in all directions. And to find me, Captain Beamer, McGregor, looking for you, there's something wrong. Tell me. What should I do? Tell me. Tell me. The train, McGregor! The train! And then, suddenly, as if it were a trick of magic, the air had luredly beside McGregor, and the things stood there. McGregor clutched it. Captain Beamer. Captain Beamer, I'm here. What is it? Tell me. What are you trying to tell me? It is a trick! It is a trick! And again the whistle blasted the air. I saw McGregor scaring, fixity, face to face with the thing, as if he were listening. I saw the thing waving and shouting, but all at once, I did not hear its words. And I knew. I knew that it was speaking to McGregor. Now. Now I know what the thing was trying to warn McGregor of. And McGregor knew it too. He found it out too late. The train, in his own depth. I saw McGregor's face contort with horror, as he listened to the thing, and then suddenly he spun around, staring wild with fear at the tunnel, and plunging like a cyclopean-eyed monster, the train roared down. The whole picture in that moment burned into my brain. The thunderous locomotive, McGregor transfected horror, and the eerie, gesticulating thing, and then the engine was upon it. They stopped the train a few hundred yards below the accident. There was nothing much to find, and less to recognize. I stood unmoving for a while. This was what the thing had tried to warn McGregor of. This. His own death. The kind of accident that had occurred to the thing itself, once upon a time. I remember still the last time I saw it. It stood where the train had struck McGregor down, wrapped in its own radiance, holding its bowed head in its hand as if weeping, grieving that its warning had so tragically failed. Ah, listen to it. Listen to it. Poor Lord and sad. Go ahead. Blow, engineer. Blow. Lament for McGregor. Sorrow for McGregor. Even the dead, the ghost of Captain Beaver, grieved. From the time-worn pages of the past, we have brought you the story, the thing in the tunnel. Bell Keeper. Toll the bell.