Her sigh died at its birth, however, and she was brought to a short and terrified halt. Two prongs of a hayfork gleamed viciously within three inches of her horrified eyes, and, behind them, with eyes no less horrified, stood the dark-haired stranger.
CHAPTER XI
THE SHADOW OF THE PAST
The gleaming prongs of the fork were sharply withdrawn, and a pleasant voice greeted the girl.
“Guess that was a near thing,” it said half-warningly.
Joan had started back, but at the sound of the voice she quickly recovered herself.
“It was,” she agreed. Then as she looked into the smiling eyes of the stranger she began to laugh.
“Another inch an’ more an’ you’d sure have been all mussed up on that pile of barn litter,” he went on, joining in her laugh.