I am really getting frightened. I look towards the door, which had hitherto been open, and stare to see it slowly shut as if moved by some spirit hand. The wind howls now like wild wolves outside.
“What is it? What is it? Ha! ha! ha! What is it?”
Then a wild unearthly shriek, and a yell of “Murder!” rises high above the wind. My nerves are quite unstrung. I verily believe my hair is moving under my Highland bonnet.
I would not stay another moment here for all the world.
I open the door, and rush out into the night, Bob at my heels, and shrieks and laughter resounding in my ears.
Out and away—anywhere, to be free of that uncanny hut.
A big round moon is shining now, and the weird pine-trees are casting weird shadows on the moorland.
Look, though, is that a pine-tree?
No, it is a tall figure, in Highland garb, with a long crook, which it grasps high up, the plaid depending from the uplifted arm.
“Yap, yap, yap—”