“Well, I’ve never seen one,” she answered, demurely mischievous. And then they both laughed.
It was near sundown—also near the camp. They were returning from an afternoon ride, and the rest of the party, Haslam and the Tarletons to wit, were some way on ahead. These two were alone together.
This they had frequently been, since accident had thus thrown them together, and in that brief period of time Raynier had fallen to wondering more and more what there was about Hilda Clive that already he had begun to think how he would miss her later on, and how on earth they could have been shut up together on board a ship all the time they had, and yet that he should hardly have taken any notice of her. Now in their daily intercourse she was so companionable and tactful—and withal feminine. She was really attractive too, he thought, not for the first time, as he looked at her and noticed how well she sat her horse. As an actual fact she really had improved in the point of appearance, and that vastly; for the healthy outdoor life in that high climate had added a colour to her face which gave it just that amount of softness in which it had seemed lacking before.
“If you are absolutely sure you are free from superstition,” went on Raynier, “I’d like to show you something that’s worth seeing.”
“What is it?”
“There’s a real thrill of curiosity in that question,” he laughed. “It’s a tangi—and a haunted one.”
“Oh, I must see it. Where is it, Mr Raynier?”
“Close here. But before you venture you had better think over the penalty. The belief is that whoever enters it meets his death in some shape or form before the end of the next moon.”
“That’s creepy, at any rate. But is the idea borne out by fact?”
“They say it is, without exception. You would not get any of the people here to set foot in it on any consideration whatever.”