Evelyn had not noticed this little detail in the excitement and apprehension attendant on their strange home-coming. More and more she wondered at the other’s strength, her almost awful coolness.
But in spite of their efforts real cheerfulness would not prevail. Neither cared to open her heart to the other.
“I think we’d better get some sleep,” said Edala presently. “We shall have to start soon after midnight.”
“Hark! What’s that?” The speaker’s face had gone white, and under the circumstances, with her nerves all strung to high tension, even Edala had started.
A low, indescribably hideous, moaning noise had arisen. It came from the back of the house.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” she answered. “Come and see.”
They went to the kitchen window, which looked out on the back. The moon had risen, and the ghostly light revealed the form of a large bull. He stood stamping and pawing the ground, uttering the while his hideous uncanny moanings.
“Oh, I’ll soon scoot him,” said Edala, returning to the passage to take down a raw-hide whip. “Only it’s not much use. The brute’ll be sure to come back.”
“Edala! You’re never going out to face that dreadful beast!” cried Evelyn, laying a detaining hand on her arm. Edala laughed shortly.
“You’ll see him run directly.”