‘This is a wild-goose chase,’ said he.
With the cessation of the footfalls, another sound smote upon their ears.
‘O, what’s that?’ cried Julia.
‘I can’t think,’ said Gideon.
The Squirradical had his stick presented like a sword. ‘Gid,’ he began, ‘Gid, I—’
‘O Mr Forsyth!’ cried the girl. ‘O don’t go forward, you don’t know what it might be—it might be something perfectly horrid.’
‘It may be the devil itself,’ said Gideon, disengaging himself, ‘but I am going to see it.’
‘Don’t be rash, Gid,’ cried his uncle.
The barrister drew near to the sound, which was certainly of a portentous character. In quality it appeared to blend the strains of the cow, the fog-horn, and the mosquito; and the startling manner of its enunciation added incalculably to its terrors. A dark object, not unlike the human form divine, appeared on the brink of the ditch.
‘It’s a man,’ said Gideon, ‘it’s only a man; he seems to be asleep and snoring. Hullo,’ he added, a moment after, ‘there must be something wrong with him, he won’t waken.’