As Wilson rose to get the image from where he had hidden it near Stubbs, the girl seized his arm and, bending far forward, gasped:
“The shadow––did you see it?”
Wilson turned with his weapon cocked.
“Where?” he demanded.
But underneath the trees where she had thought she saw a movement all was quiet again––all was silent. With a laugh at her fears, Wilson secured the image and brought it back. He thrust it towards Manning. It was clearly visible in the moonlight. The girl shrank a little away from it.
“Ugh!” she shuddered. “I don’t like to look at it to-night.”
In the dull silver light it appeared heavier and more somber than in the firelight. It still sat cross-legged with the same cynical smile about its cruel mouth, the same bestial expression about the brow, the same low-burning fires in the spider-like eyes. As Wilson and her father bent over it she turned away her head. Once again she seized Wilson’s arm and bade him look beyond the thicket in front of them.
“I saw something move. I am sure of it.”
“You are a bit nervous, I’m afraid,” he said tenderly. “If only you would lie down for the rest of the night.”
“No, no, David. I am sure this time.”