West of Arkham... the hills rise wild... and there are valleys with deep woods that no ax has ever cut. There are dark, narrow glens where the trees slope fantastically... where thin brooklets trickle without ever having caught the glimpse of sunlight. When I went into the hills and vales to survey for the new reservoir, they told me the place was evil. They told me this in Arkham, and because that is a very old town, full of witch legends, I thought the evil must be something which grandams had whispered to children through centuries. Then I saw the dark westward tangle of glens and slopes for myself... and ceased to wonder at anything besides its own elder mystery.