He did as she desired, and they both listened.
“I hear wheels, too,” she whispered. “Somebody is driving along the road. We must conceal ourselves.”
“Where?” he asked.
She considered for a moment, and then answered—
“In the cook-house. You will be able to defend us there, with your revolver, against great odds. But if I mistake not, this is a buggy that is advancing, and so cannot contain more than two or three people. They are evidently making for this place to seek shelter from the storm. Come, let us go.”
They hurried to the cook-house. The door closed with a wooden latch, and Gordon managed to secure this from being opened from the outside by means of a piece of stick.
The sound of the wheels drew nearer and nearer, and in a few minutes the vehicle drew up at the door, and a man sprang to the ground.
“There is only one person,” Gordon whispered.
“There may be more behind,” she answered.
“We must not stir.”