The hoarse barking was succeeded by others until the air became heavy with the uproar.
Then the distant clang of a door was heard.
The Bradys had come to a halt undecided what to do.
They had little fear that the dogs could reach them in that deep snow. But suddenly as they stood there in the moonlight a distant sharp crack was heard and the hiss of a bullet by Harry’s ear was a note of danger.
“Down, my lad!” cried Old King Brady, warningly.
They crouched behind the rails of a fence.
Bullets now began to sing about their heads.
It was evident that they had been seen in the moonlight.
Why the asylum people should receive possible visitors in this warlike if not murderous fashion was a problem which needed solution.
“It is might queer,” said Old King Brady. “The place cannot be very straight to be sure. Can it be that they suspect our identity?”