“Poor little thing,” he thought. “She thinks I’m going to kill her!”
But he struck again and the thick panel of the door, dry and old, cracked. Again, and Paula’s voice again, this time calling:
“Wait! Wait and I will come!”
“No,” he answered in flat stubbornness. “I’ll not wait. I am coming inside. Open the door.”
“You cannot! You must not! What is it that you want here? What have we that you would take away from us? Go back into the world outside. Go quick—before we kill you!”
He laughed savagely.
“You are not going to kill me. And we’ve talked nonsense long enough. I tell you I am not going to hurt you. Who is in there with you? Why doesn’t he talk?”
Whispers, quick, sharp, agitated. But no answer. Sheldon waited, grew suddenly angry and struck with all his might. The door cracked again; two long cracks showed running up and down. But the bar within held and the cracks gave no glimpse of the room’s interior. He struck once more.
“Wait!” Paula’s voice again, strangely quiet. “I am coming.”
He stepped back a little, standing just at the side of the door, his rifle clubbed and lifted. There was so little telling what next to expect here in a land which seemed to him a land of madness. He heard her at the door.