Murtagh tried not to look too proud of himself, but he began to feel really elated at his own genius for arranging details.
"Who's got a pencil?" he continued, producing a bit of dirty paper from his pocket.
None of them possessed such a thing; but a stick blackened in the fire and then dipped in buttermilk answered fairly well for a pen. It was found dreadfully difficult to write with; so Rose, who was the best scribe of the party, was directed to write only these words: "Theresa is safe,"—that being the very shortest message they could think of. Then Murtagh put the letter in his pocket, and they all set to work to collect fire wood.
Left alone, Theresa dared not move even to bolt the door which the children had closed behind them, but turning the skirt of her dress over her head, she sank down in the corner of the hut with her face to the wall, and quivering with fear lay still and listened.
Nothing came, and before long the perfect stillness of her position produced its own effect; she fell into a short, troubled sleep. But her dreams were of terrible things, and she awoke suddenly a few hours later convinced that she had heard something, she was too agitated to attempt to define what. She gave one scream, and then sitting up she held her breath and listened. A gentle wind had arisen, the branches of the trees were swaying, and she imagined she heard a sound as of ghostly footsteps.
Trembling greatly she crept across the hut. The moon was up now, and the first object that met her eyes was a great white shimmering thing that seemed to be coming towards her, waving its arms as it approached. She stood still a moment transfixed with fright; two long white arms were raised as if to seize her, and she could bear it no longer. Shrieking at the top of her voice she fled blindly, out of the hut down to the river's edge. The sight of the shining water recalled her just sufficiently to her senses to prevent her from attempting to cross the river; but still screaming she turned and rushed—right into the arms of the ghost itself, where she fell exhausted and terrified among the straggling branches of a tall laurel.
For a moment she lay shuddering with closed eyes; but presently, venturing to look around her, she found that the ghost had vanished; that the moon was shining peaceably on the white backs of the laurel leaves as they fluttered on the swaying branches; and after the first moment of astonishment, she began to understand that all her fright had been caused by nothing more nor less than a big bush.
Poor little Theresa! She had sense enough left to feel ashamed of herself, so she went quietly into the hut. This time she barricaded the window and bolted the door, then blowing the fire into a blaze she ate some supper, and lying down once more fell soon into a peaceable slumber.
The children, meanwhile, had trotted in the deepening gloom along the road till they came to the Dalys' cottage, standing back in a little garden. But alas for Murtagh's plan. The door was wide open, and opposite to it, near the fire, a man stood smoking.
"What's to be done now?" whispered Rose. "We'd better go away."