The lantern swayed in Nickie’s trembling hand. The light flickered and sputtered with each fresh onslaught of the wind. Skippy held the top bar and pressed his face into the opening, his heart beating like a triphammer. There was a sound in the distance and the fear of what it might be caused him to gulp with dismay.
“It’s a car!” Timmy screamed. “A car!”
“What’d you come for, Timmy?” Nickie shouted frantically.
“Run! Hide!” Skippy was crying.
Timmy’s slim form seemed to be swaying uncertainly. He took a few steps nearer the great tree, acting as if he were bewildered.
Skippy no longer heard the sound and said so. Nickie agreed with him. They cried down to Timmy to hurry—to run, but the boy looked up at them vaguely and shrugged his shoulders mechanically.
“He’s too sick—too hurt!” Skippy cried, pulling at Nickie’s sleeve. “He don’t seem to move, he can’t!”
The lantern seemed to be making a desperate effort to light up the scene. Its rays struggled high over Nickie’s head and shone down almost brightly for a precious moment, down upon Timmy’s upturned face.
He was smiling ... or did they imagine it? His regular features slowly froze—froze into a horrified expression ... or were they imagining that too? And that arm that stole out from behind the great evergreen.... Suddenly, there was a muffled scream, a voice that sounded like Timmy’s.
Then the lantern light went out, leaving them in darkness.