“It’s nothing,” she said. “Only a hare or some wild creature; they often scream,” and she turned back to the table where she was preparing coffee.
But though the room was now pretty clear of smoke and the fire was behaving better, Arminel did not close the window. She still stood by it listening. And again there came the strange shrill yet feeble cry, telling unmistakably of anguish, or whether of beast or man no one could have told. And this time Chloe stood still with the kettle in her hand, more startled than she had been before.
“Sister,” said Arminel decidedly, “that is not the squeal of a hare; it is something worse. Perhaps some child from the town may have strayed into the forest and got benighted. It is possible at least. And the forest is not like other places. Who knows what might happen to one astray there?”
“What could we do in such a case?” said Chloe. “We’re not all-powerful.” She spoke more out of a little remaining temper than from cowardice or indifference, for like her sister she was both brave and kind.
“Remember what our grandmother said,” said Arminel, and she repeated the grandmother’s words: ”‘Never hang back from doing a kind action; no harm can come to you while you love each other and do your duty.’ I am going alone to the forest if you will not come,” she went on, and she turned towards the door as she spoke.
“Of course I will come with you,” said Chloe, reaching down her mantle and hood which she had hung up on a nail. “Close the window, Arminel,” she said. “I’ll leave the coffee on the hob. The fire is burning nicely now, and we shall find it bright and warm when we come back.”
As they stepped outside, closing the door behind them, the cry broke out again. Tired though they were with their long day at market, the sisters set off running. Two or three fields lay between them and the edge of the wood, and part of the way the ground was very rough, but they were nimble and sure-footed. And ever as they ran came the cries, feebler yet more distinct, and before long they could distinguish the words, “Help! comrades, help!”
“It is not a hare, you see,” said Arminel.
“No, indeed,” answered Chloe, and both felt a thrill of fear, though they only ran the faster.
The cries, though now they grew rarer, becoming indeed mingled with groans, still served to guide them. Soon they were in the midst of the trees, making their way more by a sort of instinct, for it was almost dark. Suddenly a ray of moonlight glimmered through the firs, and a few paces in front of them they saw lying on the ground a small dark object writhing and groaning.