"Mary!"
Again his voice, hoarse and impatient, came from the darkness on the edge of the clearing.
She pulled back the bolts and threw open the door.
"Yes," she called.
Donald loomed out of the darkness. Across the clearing, by the swinging light of a lantern before the wagon, she dimly saw its white shape, and the moving backs of cattle.
Her arms went out to Donald when he stood before her.
"Where's the dog?" he asked.
"Dead," she said quietly.
From her eyes and her face as she fell back, he learnt that something unusual had happened.
"Then there has been trouble?" he said.