Once outside he listened intently. The heavy breathing of Jeffries inside was the only sound; he was soundly sleeping. The worst for the present was over.
“We must lose no time!” he whispered. “Now for Shadow Swamp!”
Silently in the moonlight they stole away, down the hill, past the few cabins, sleeping quietly. Katie’s fate was approaching.
She lay limp and quiet, with a white, scared face, beautiful in its alarmed expression. He clasped her tightly and hurried on.
When they had got to the cabin by the river, a faint shadow stole out from it, and ran like a streak of light toward Dead-Man’s Forest. They stopped, alarmed, and Downing, placing the form of Katie upon the ground, drew a revolver and cocked it. Cato, the Creeper, whipped out his razor.
Across the glade darted the shadow, and vanished in the recesses of the somber wood. Cato’s teeth chattered.
“Golly, Mars’r Cap’n. I’se afeard.” And his eyes rolled.
“Coward! afraid of what? Why, couldn’t you see it was a raccoon?”
“Oh, no, Mars’r Cap’n; dat warn’t no ’coon. Dis chile’s hunted ’em ’nuff ter know ’em. Golly, Mars’r Cap’n! dat war a ghost sure ’nuff!”
“Pshaw! ghost! See here, don’t you suppose I can see as well as you can? I tell you it was a raccoon. By George, I believe the bloke’s scared, sure enough.”