“Don’t be a damned baby,” I said sharply, although I, too, disliked the dank atmosphere of the settlement. I guess it was the complete tillness and the silence that gave me the jumps. Even the trees were motionless.
I dismounted and walked up to the rotten wooden door of the building and thumped on it with my clenched list. The heavy silence was broken only by the sound of my fist.
I stopped and listened. Sweat ran down my face with the exertion of beating on the door. Ansell and Bogle stood a few yards behind me, watching.
“There’s no one there,” I said, stepping back. “They’ve taken her away.”
“I can smell something like a dead horse,” Bogle said suddenly, and he began drawing great breaths of air through his nose.
Ansell said: “For God’s sake, keep quiet.” He joined me at the door. “There must be someone there,” he went on, pressing against the door. “There’s no lock. It’s bolted on the inside.”
I drew back and aimed a kick at the door. It shivered but held firm. I don’t know why it was, but I suddenly felt scared. I felt that something was going to happen over which I had no control, but in spite of this I was going to get into that hut.
I turned to Bogle, “Get off that damned horse and help me, you useless punk.”
Glad to have something to do, Bogle hurriedly dismounted and came over. He examined the door and then drawing back, he crashed his shoulder against it. The door creaked loudly and Bogle’s second charge shattered the bolt and the door crashed open.
A violent, nauseating smell seeped out of the hut. We staggered back before it.