“Looks to me lul-like the old shanty is liable to tut-tumble down almost any minute,” whispered Springer chokingly. “I don’t want it to dud-drop on my head.”
Grant lifted his hand. “Listen!” he urged.
With lips parted, they did not breathe for a few moments, and their ears were strained to hear any unusual sound. What they heard seemed to be the dull, muffled regular ticking of a clock coming from some hidden spot which they could not locate.
In the semi-darkness the whites of their eyes shone distinctly as they turned significant glances upon one another. Granger had told them of this mysterious ticking, and it brought vividly to their minds his description of the finding of the dead man with his clock beating off the seconds upon a shelf above the bunk. Perhaps it was the electricity in the atmosphere that produced a tugging sensation at the roots of their hair. Springer’s eyes rolled toward the open doorway, through which he longed to dash, being restrained only by fear that such an action would subject him to the joshing of his campmates. Piper was scarcely less eager to depart.
Such dim light as sifted into the old hut came through the small window and the ragged hole in the roof, above which black clouds were now outspread. Suddenly athwart these clouds streamed a writhing streak of lightning, which illumined the entire interior of the cabin, causing Piper to crouch and cringe, his mouth and throat dry, his heart beating like a hammer.
“By Jinks!” said Rodney. “That was a good one. I reckon it struck somewhere.”
It seemed that it must have struck among the mountainous hills to the westward, for suddenly they echoed and re-echoed with a tremendous crashing, rumbling, earth-jarring roar that gradually and reluctantly died away. Following this a light rush of wind passed through the tops of the tallest pines, dying out quickly and seeming to make the silence still more profound.
And in that silence the three boys distinctly heard a faint tapping, as of ghostly fingers beating feebly against the cabin wall. This was accompanied by a sound still more disturbing, resembling a low, half-whining wail.
“Gug-good by!” choked Springer, as he dashed from the hut.