Spellbound by this dreadful, hushed clamour, I stood rigidly, staring into those dense shadows whence it came; then joyed to the warm, strong clasp of her fingers on mine and, in this awful moment, wondered to feel her hand so steady.
"Are you afraid, Peregrine?" she whispered.
"Yes!" I mumbled. "Yes!"
"But are you brave enough to go and see what it is? Dare you go—alone?"
"No!" I gasped. "No—I should—die—" My teeth snapped shut upon the word and I began to creep forward, the ash stick clutched in shaking hand, my eyes glaring in horrified expectancy. Foot by foot I forced my shivering body forward into the denser shadows of the underbrush, on and on in such agony of fear that the sweat poured from me, for now this frightful struggling was louder and more menacing; therefore, lest I should blench and turn back, I ran wildly forward until, all at once, I stopped at sight of a shapeless something, a dim horror that started and wallowed, gasping, upon the ground before me; then, as I stared, the thing bleated feebly, and I knew it for a sheep and, coming nearer, saw the poor animal lay upon its back, kicking and struggling vainly to regain its feet.
My revulsion of feeling was so great that a faintness seized me and I leaned half-swooning against a tree. And in this moment Diana's arm was about me and her voice in my ear.
"Oh, but that was brave, Peregrine—I never thought you'd go! Now help me to get the poor thing to her feet." So between us we contrived to set the sheep upon its legs and watched it amble feebly away. Then, side by side, we came out of the wood where we might behold the stars.
"Diana," said I, with my gaze uplifted to their glory, "did you know it was only a sheep?"
"Of course!"
"And I am a little braver than you expected?"