"Sit down, Harry," I whispered. "I want to talk to you. No sense in waking the others."
"Oh," he said.
He squatted beside me on the sand, his eyes searching my face. "What is it, Tom?"
"I heard a scream," I said. "It was pretty awful. Somebody has been hurt—bad. It woke me up, and that takes some doing."
Harry nodded. "You sleep like a log," he said.
"I just lay still and listened," I said, "with my eyes wide open. Something moved out from the well—a two-legged something. It didn't make a sound. It was big, Harry, and it seemed to melt into the shadows. I don't know what kept me from leaping up and going after it. It had something to do with the way I felt. All frozen up inside."
Harry appeared to understand. He nodded, his eyes darting toward the well. "How long ago was that?"
"Ten—fifteen minutes."
"You just waited for me to wake up?"
"That's right," I said. "There was something about the scream that made me want to put off finding out. Two's company—and when you're alone with something like that it's best to talk it over before you act."