The carriage was now making its way through the bad stretch in the lane, and there was little noise in its progress.
“I heard nothing,” I said, putting down the window to listen. “What was it?”
“I thought it was a shout.”
There was no noise but the steady splash of horses' hoofs in the mud, and the sloppy, shearing sound of the wheels as they cut through the wet soil.
As we bumped and groaned again through the ruts, however, there arose in the distance behind us the fierce barking of dogs, their voices raised in anger and alarm.
There was a faint halloo, and a wilder barking followed. Then my ear caught the splashing of galloping hoofs behind, and in a moment the man of the house rode beside us.
“They've come,” he said, “or, anyhow, somebody's come. I let the dogs loose, and they will have a lively time for a while.”
At his words there was another chorus of barks and shouts. Then a shot rang out, and a fusillade followed with a mournful wail that died away into silence.
“Good Lord! they've shot the dogs,” cried the man hotly. “I've a mind to go back and pepper some of 'em.”
“No,” said Mrs. Knapp, “we may need you. Let us hurry!”