“It must be a big one,” breathed Janice. “I just can’t stay here with it!”
She rushed to the big wing doors and tried to open them. But it was foolish to attempt that, for they were barred on the outside. There was no way out of the barn, save through the door by which she had entered, for the cattle entrances were all barred without.
There was the feed door into the hen-house. The thought of it instantly came to her mind. But to get to it she must pass by the feed chest.
It seemed to Janice Day as though she could not do that. The thought of the rat’s sharp teeth, its flaming eyes in the dark, its sleek body and hard, wire-like tail, gave her the shivers.
“I’m a coward! I’m a coward!” she told herself, again and again. “Perhaps it isn’t a rat at all. Maybe it’s only a cunning little mouse—or really nothing at all. Oh, if I only had a light.”
She searched her pockets for matches. Of course she had none. The lantern hung on a peg just inside the door which she had endeavored unsuccessfully to open. But an unlighted lantern was of very little use to her. And deeper and deeper grew the shadows on the barn floor.
She feared her aunt would be frightened; and neither her uncle nor Marty came. It seemed to Janice as though much more time had elapsed since she entered the barn than really had passed. She felt sure that by taking off her jacket she could creep through into the hen-house; and the hen-house door was in a corner sheltered from the wind. She could surely get out through that.
“Janice Day!” she muttered, “you’ve just got to stop being so foolish! You must pass that meal chest and get out! Come now!”
Thus urging herself on—spurring her courage, as it were—the girl advanced a few steps along the barn floor. Suddenly she stopped. There were two bright specks shining in the dark. The noise of the rat’s gnawing had ceased. It must be watching her as she advanced.
Marty always said they were afraid and ran from you; but this particular rodent seemed to have no intention of running.