"What is—'that'?" asked Payne.
"I don't know," she responded in wide-eyed wonderment. "Really, I don't. It isn't anything tangible. It's over there some place," she nodded languidly across the prairie. "It—frightened me to-night. I ran away—but I didn't escape it."
"It's Garman!" blurted Payne hoarsely.
"Oh, don't!" She cowered against the pony. "Please—please don't!
Oh, if you don't wish to be cruel——"
"Miss Annette!"
The utterance of her name seemed to bring back a sense of her true self. She straightened herself slowly to her full height, and her poise of assurance seemed to come back to its own.
"It must sound terribly silly to you," she said quietly. "I wonder if the Florida moon affects every one that way."
"You said it wasn't the moon."
"No," she said seriously, "it isn't." She paused, stroking the pony's neck thoughtfully. "Do you know, I actually was so frightened at nothing that I ran away this evening."
"You were going over there?" He pointed toward the vague lights showing through the tents of his camp.