Cora rushed to the door, and, with straining gaze, looked out into the still night.
“Ruky! Ruky!” she screamed.
There was a slight stir in the low-growing tree.
“Ruky, darling, come back!”
“Caw, caw!” answered a harsh voice from the tree. Something black seemed to spin out of it, and then, in great sweeping circles, sailed upward, until finally it settled upon one of the loftiest trees in the forest.
“Caw, caw!” it screamed, fiercely.
The girl shuddered, but, with outstretched arms, cried out:
“Oh, Ruky, if it is you, come back to poor Cor!”
“Caw, caw!” mocked hundreds of voices, as a shadow like a thunder-cloud rose in the air. It was an immense flock of crows. She could distinguish them plainly in the starlight, circling higher and higher, then lower and lower, until, with their harsh “Caw, caw!” they sailed far off into the night.
“Oh, Ruky, answer me!” she cried.