“Must be a farm somewhere near,” she said to Rafe, who sat beside her on the back seat.
“Nope. No farms around here, Nan,” he returned.
“But I hear a dog howl,” she told him.
Rafe listened, too. Then he turned to her with a grin on his sharp face that she did not see. “Oh, no, you don't,” he chuckled. “That's no dog.”
Again the howl was repeated, and it sounded much nearer. Nan realized, too, that it was a more savage sound than she had ever heard emitted by a dog.
“What is it?” she asked, speaking in a low voice to Rafe.
“Wolves!” responded her cousin maliciously. “But you mustn't mind a little thing like that. You don't have wolves down round where you live, I s'pose?”
Nan knew that he was attempting to plague her, so she said: “Not for pets, at least, Rafe. These sound awfully savage.”
“They are,” returned her cousin calmly.
The wolf cry came nearer and nearer. The ponies had started on a trot again at the top of the hill, and her uncle and Tom did not seem to notice the ugly cry. Nan looked back, and was sure that some great animal scrambled out of the woods and gave chase to them.