It seemed to me almost a sacrilege to disturb the deep repose of this fair valley.
Again the barking broke forth. This time Bulger’s strange antics were wilder than before.
He seemed fairly beside himself bounding around and around the statue which was that of a young man in the act of reaching aloft for fruit or flowers—and giving vent to a sort of half anger, half mischief, in a series of barks, growls and whinings. Rare indeed was it that Bulger did not give heed to my wishes, no matter how faintly expressed, but now, not even a threatening tone of voice seemed to have the slightest effect upon him.
He continued his mad gamboling and sharp, angry barking. Determined to reproach him most severely for his disobedience, I strode angrily toward him.
I drew near.
I looked! I saw!
Ashes of my forefathers, what? The statue had wide-opened eyes. The statue had the blush of life on its cheeks.
Motion, movement, even to a hair’s breadth, there was none! And yet these fair blue eyes were bent upon Bulger in half-inquisitive, half-wondering gaze.
I rubbed my eyes and looked again.
I took a step forward.