There is a chill isolation about a high wind in the desert, even though the wind be warm. It seemed to me as I sat there I could hear strange voices in the vacant houses. It was the wind no doubt, but the loneliness of the situation made them authentic.
As I watched in the darkness of the court yard, I saw a grey patch against the opposite wall. My eyes seemed drawn to it, then I saw it move. I scarcely breathed. It stopped for a moment, apparently listening, then it came forward again at a level of two or three feet from the ground.
I raised my rifle to fire, but something held me back. I now made out a dark object, too, behind the grey. It was creeping towards where the boys were sleeping. I tried to yell but my voice was just a squeak.
Just then a night bird swept low into the court, gave a shrill cry, then away over the roofs. Jim sat up wide awake and none too soon, for I saw the object rush forward with one hand upraised to strike.
"Get out of here," Jim's big voice bellowed out.
The old Indian woman, for such it was, shrank down muttering and then slowly retreated backward to the wall.
"Where's Jo?" cried Jim, in alarm.
This released the spell I was under and I got up and came over to where Jim and Tom were.
"What are you doing wandering around, this time of night, Jo?" Jim asked.
"I couldn't sleep and your old horned toad tried to cuddle up to me and I thought it was a tarantula," I replied.