Dunbar stared, but went on. “It was the strangest voice I ever heard, and I can’t give any reason for it, but a cold chill ran over me, and I felt for my gun. It was a voice from the grave.”
He stopped short, and Hettie turned pale. Jeffries gave a gesture of irritation.
“Go on!” he said.
“In a few moments, say ten minutes, I saw, or imagined I saw, a dark object moving rapidly down the hill. Part of it was black, part white. I only saw it for about five seconds, when it vanished, and all was quiet again.
“I waited for some time, then, seeing no more, went back to bed, wondering. Just as I was falling asleep, I felt a draft of air pass over me, and looked up. Though seeing nothing, I was sure that a presence was near me—a thing felt, but not seen.”
He stopped, and drew Hettie protectingly to him, and grasped Jeffries’ hand.
“Now, my daughter, I don’t want to alarm you, but though I could not hear it, something seemed, ay, said:
“Trouble in Shadow Swamp—take care!”
Jeffries looked uneasy and seriously alarmed, while Hettie grew very white. Dunbar watched them both steadily, then said:
“Now, what I think is this.”