The man obeyed, with the suddenness of a jack-in-the-box, and stood as if petrified.
“Quick! The horses! They’re no damned broncos!”
Williams jumped to the bridles; and a gleam from the lantern showed Marion his face. His mouth was open, his eyes staring with incredulity and alarm. She was seized with a preposterous desire to laugh at that comical visage, made grotesque by the wavering light of the lantern that danced in the fellow’s hand. She was on the verge of hysteria.
Haig leaped out, and held up his arms for her, snapping his fingers impatiently. In almost complete inertia, yet with every nerve quivering, she let him help her to the ground, where he placed her arm in his, and started toward the ranch house.
“Limp! Limp!” he whispered in her ear.
She obeyed him mechanically. Everything seemed to have become very still and cold; feeling had frozen in her limbs; terror clutched at her icily out of the gloom. There were two lighted windows in front of her, two baleful yellow gleams, like the eyes of a monster of the 96 night. At any instant the door would open, gulping her in.
She choked down a cry. Her feet were like lead now, and she stumbled on the first of the half-dozen steps that led to the veranda. Haig pulled her up quickly, flung his right arm around her waist, and fairly carried her up the steps. At that moment, just as they stood on the level floor, the door was opened, and Huntington’s huge body appeared in silhouette against the lamplight.
“That you, Marion?” he called out, peering into the darkness. Then, almost instantly: “Somebody with you, Marion?”
Haig answered for her.
“Good evening, Cousin Seth!” he called out cheerily. “I just dropped in to ask about your health.”