A/N as in chapter 1,as in previous chapters, I have made use of ACDs descriptive skills, this chapter has 2 lines almost word for word from the original story which very conveniently rhymed and scanned:) (ACD -very helpful author.)
Holmes and companions do not belong to me.
Watson POV
Moor Verse 4
I noticed we were near the hall, but did not reach the door.
Instead we stopped beside the gate, which led onto the moor.
And in the fog-swirled moorland, we observed a distant light.
The light belonged to Stapleton, our goal that fateful night.
We moved together cautiously, along the moorland track,
Then stopped behind a screen of rocks, to watch our friend walk back.
Then, as I'd seen the house before, I went to check the room,
I tip-toed down the garden path and watched them from the gloom.
Sir Henry sat with Stapleton, cigars and wine at hand,
Sir Henry looking pale and fraught, not knowing what was planned.
Then Stapleton arose and left, outside I heard him pause,
A key was turned, a scuffling sound, I could not tell the cause.
I heard the key turn once again, and Stapleton returned.
I crept back quietly to my friends, to tell them what I'd learned.
Drifting over Grimpen mire a dense white fog was seen,
The tors stood out like icebergs through a layer with silver sheen.
The fog was creeping nearer, and the landmarks disappeared,
And Holmes grew more impatient with the one thing he had feared.
The night was clear above us, the stars shone cold and bright,
A half moon bathed the whole scene in a soft uncertain light.
Before us lay the villain's house, outlined against the moon,
The fog drew ever nearer, we needed action soon.
The fog-bank drifted onwards, the house no longer clear,
We had to move to higher ground, and hoped he'd soon appear.
And still that dense white sea rolled on; we had to stand our ground,
Or we might miss Sir Henry, with the fog wreathed all around.
The welcome sound of footsteps broke the silence of the moor,
Sir Henry coming closer was the cue we'd waited for.
He came through fog-lined curtains to a clear and starlit night,
Then walked on apprehensively and checked to left and right.
Then came a crisp, thin patter from within that dense white sea.
We looked around, uncertain, unaware what it might be.
I glanced at Holmes' expression, now a fixed and rigid stare,
And Lestrade cried out in terror at the horror he saw there,
He threw himself face forward on the stark and stony ground.
I sprang up to my feet to face…a monstrous coal-black hound!
Its eyes were coldly glowing, through the wall of fog it came,
Its muzzle, haunch and dewlap were defined by glowing flame.
A dark and savage Hound of Hell, appearing on the moor,
The like of which, no mortal eyes had ever seen before!
Before we had recovered, the hound had passed us by,
We fired together, two of us, it gave a dreadful cry.
But still the creature bounded on towards our helpless friend.
We saw Sir Henry, terrified, convinced he'd met his end.
But, the cry of pain which we had heard, swept all our fears away,
We knew the hound was mortal and we still could win the day.
And so we raced across the moor, and up the sloping ground,
Towards Sir Henry's screaming and the howling of the hound.
Then Holmes, some way ahead of me, had reached the monster first,
And held his pistol to it's flank and fired a rapid burst.
With a final howl of agony, the monstrous creature cried,
It rolled, snapped at the moorland air, then fell upon its side.
I stopped and held my pistol to its dreadful shimmering head,
But did not pull the trigger, it was clear the hound was dead.
Sir Henry lay still on the track; the hound had hurled him there.
We checked him, as we feared for wounds, but found none anywhere.
To our relief, Sir Henry stirred, and soon was wide awake.
"My God!" he whispered softly," What was that, for Heaven's sake!"
We studied the enormous beast, could not believe our eyes,
A bloodhound crossed with mastiff, like a lioness in size.
Its jaws still glowed with bluish fire; the eyes were ringed with flame.
I touched it and my finger glowed and smouldered just the same.
"It's phosphorus!" I realised, and Holmes confirmed my find,
An odourless concoction, so that scents could be defined.
He apologised profusely for Sir Henry's awful fright,
He'd not expected such a beast or such a fogbound night.
Sir Henry tried to stagger up, but still was deathly pale,
We left him to recover while we sought the villain's trail.
end of part four