Night came on; I heard—or I thought I heard—rats, and I remembered some of the terrible things I had read of these animals. I shouted again, and again beat the door. I cannot tell the horror and agony of those hours. I felt myself going mad.
I was aroused at last, after hours,—it seemed to me,—by the whining and crying of my dog, my pet, who was my constant companion. He was a clever little fellow and, I used to think, knew as much as some folks. He was now at the small, grated window of the cellar, crying and scratching at the earth, evidently trying to dig his way in to me.
His presence—even outside—comforted me, and a thought came to me. He had been taught to go to Uncle Will and others of the family, and perhaps he might be able to bring help. I called to him, and he responded joyfully. Then I gave him his order.
“Call Uncle Will!”
The faithful fellow did not want to leave me; he whined and cried, but I repeated the order in as stern a voice as I could manage.
“Call Uncle Will!” I ordered again and again, and at last he ran off.
Then I took hope and began to listen. If Uncle Will came near, I meant to call and scream to attract his attention.
But hours passed; no one came—not even my dear Tony—and I heard noises and went mad again. I was getting exhausted, sitting uncomfortably on the top step of the stairs, and suffering such violent emotion.
Meanwhile there was excitement at Uncle Will’s over the strange conduct of the dog. He barked, and howled, and cried at the door, till Uncle Will got out of bed to quiet him. But he would not be quiet, nor go into the house for all the coaxing. He insisted on barking, running towards the gate, and then back in the most frantic way.
At last, after he had kept the family awake all night, when daylight began to dawn, Uncle Will decided to follow him to see if he could find what was the matter, though he was sure the poor fellow was raving mad.