“Quiet! Listen!”
Dickenson drew his breath hard and strained his ears instead of his eyes.
“Well? Can’t hear anything.”
“Hist! Listen again.”
There was a pause.
“Hear anything?”
“Yes; but I don’t know what it is,” said Dickenson, laying a hand behind one ear and leaning forward with his head on one side.
“What does it sound like?”
“Something like a heavy wagon coming along a road with its wheels muffled.”
“Heavy wagon drawn by oxen?”