But her attention was engaged by thoughts of Pratt Sanderson’s sufferings. The young man groaned faintly from time to time, but he gave no other sign of life.
As Frances lay shivering on the ground her keen senses suddenly apprehended a new sound. She raised her head a little and the sound was absent. She dropped back upon the earth again and it returned–a throbbing sound, distant, faint but insistent.
What could it be? Frances was first startled, then puzzled by it. Each time that she raised her head the noise drifted away; then it returned when her ear was against the ground.
“It’s a horse–it’s several horses,” she finally whispered to herself. “Can it be—?”
She sat up suddenly. Pete immediately commanded her to lie down.
“I’m cramped,” said the girl, speaking clearly. “Can’t you change these cords? I won’t try to run away.”
“I’d hurt you if you did,” growled the fellow. “And I ain’t going to change them cords.”
“Oh, do!” cried Frances, more loudly.
“Shut up and lay down there!” ordered Pete, raising his own voice.
“No, I will not!” retorted the girl, deliberately tempting Pete into one of his rages. If he became angry and yelled at her all the better!