“Say, fellows,” interrupted Jack, “it’s as close as the deuce in here. Let’s have some air.”
The boy nearest the windows opened them. Then someone else commenced another story. John listened for awhile, watching the glow of Jack’s cigarette, until a feeling of drowsiness, which he was unable to cast off, came over him, and he slept.
He dreamed that he was pursued. He knew that he was dreaming, for he could still hear the murmur of the boys’ voices, very far off. He could not have explained what it was that was after him; it was formless, indescribable. And yet it seemed to have form, too, or at least bulk; and as he fled it seemed to roll after him with an overwhelming presence. He could feel himself escaping, as if into a narrow cavern which became smaller and smaller, while he too diminished in size; yet all the while the presence was after him, and he could feel, rather than see, a mass like a great ball, which appeared to grow larger and more overpowering as it approached. As it was attempting to cram itself into the entrance of the cavern, oppressing him horribly, he woke up.
He knew that a door had blown shut, and that the noise had wakened him. A strong wind which smelt of rain was blowing in through the open windows, and it chilled him. He got up and closed the windows, and going over to the fire-place, tossed in some chips and set a match to them thinking it would be more cheerful to have even a tiny fire. As the chips caught, the dim light showed the boys lying in the middle of the floor, several of them asleep, and the rest still listening to ghost stories. John lay down again and watched the grotesque shadows, cast by the fire, flickering about on the ceiling. But the effect upon him was like hypnotism, and he could feel himself again sinking into slumber, when a faint noise outside brought him suddenly to his feet, wide awake. He stood there, alert and listening. The others seemed not to have noticed anything, except his sudden rising, and looked up at him inquiringly. John merely placed a finger to his lips, and listened. He could now hear distinctly the steps of someone approaching up the driveway. They were coming toward the house. Who could it be, he wondered. Not one of the girls, at this time of the night? No, it was a man’s firm tread. An officer, who had noticed their light from the road, and was coming to investigate? What a fool he was to have made a light! These thoughts flashed through his mind with lightning rapidity.
“Don’t move!” he commanded. “Someone is coming!”
They waited, rigid with expectancy.
The heavy tread sounded upon the porch; there was an instant’s pause, and then came a knocking at the screen door.
John strode across the room, shot back the heavy bolt, and opened the door.
“I saw your light,” said a rough voice, apologetically.
“Well, what do you want?” demanded John, sharply; for he noticed that the man was trying to look past him, into the room beyond.