“How do you know?” asked Terry.
“Don’t you remember, that good-looking porter with the cute little mustache who took up our bags, was gazing so soulfully out of the window into this same orchard?” suggested Arden. “There was such a queer, rapt look on his face, I’m sure, though I could see only the back of his head.”
“Oh, my word!” mocked Sim. “Aren’t we getting poetical and humorous all of a sudden!”
“Hark!” cautioned Terry in a whisper.
From the dark orchard below them and to the northeast of the college building sounded a cry of alarm and fright floating through the murky blackness. It was a cry as if someone was in danger.
“Oh!” gasped Sim. “Whatever was that?”
Then, with one accord, she and her chums ran back to their room and closed the door but did not lock it. For it was against the rules of Cedar Ridge to lock bedroom doors. Miss Anklon had impressed this on the freshmen. Terry, however, insisted on dragging a chair against the portal, bracing the back of it under the knob so it would be difficult to gain access.
The three girls gazed at one another with fear in their eyes.
Was there danger abroad in the blackness of the night?