“God of heaven! what does that mean?” I exclaimed, springing to my feet.
“Sounds like the ‘Snorter,’ the engine that I heard on the Boston road,” answered Nat, rubbing his eyes, and listening.
“Hush!” I admonished, as again that hideous scream burst upon us.
“Wonder if the Pacific Railroad’s built yet?” remarked Nat, with the utmost nonchalance; “or, maybe, some of their engines have run away from them.”
As I stood wondering and waiting, the gray light of morning commenced appearing through the forest, and shortly the day dawned. A moment after, as I was about to awaken Imogene, the awful scream was repeated, seemingly directly across the river. It was different from a human voice, but sounded like the cry of a wild animal in extremity of the direst agony.
As if our terror was still too faint, we now heard the loud ring of a bell, apparently from the very forest.
“What is that?” asked Imogene, pale with horror.
“Heaven knows!” I answered.
“Sounds like the old bell up in Lubec,” remarked Nat; who, singularly enough, was the least agitated.
“Listen!” whispered Imogene, raising her hand.