The Man in Gray: A Romance of North and South Part 33

"There's somebody around the house."

"Na."

"I tell you--yes!"

"Hit's the dawgs."

"I heard a man's step on the path, I tell you."

"Yer dreamin', ole woman--"

"I'm not, I tell ye."

"Go back to sleep."

The man settled again and breathed deeply.

The woman remained on her elbow, listening with every nerve strained in agony.

Again she heard a step on the gravel. This time another footfall joined the first. She gripped her husband's shoulders and shook him violently.

"John, John!" she whispered.

He had half roused himself this time, shocked into consciousness by her trembling grip on his shoulders. But above all by the tremor in her whispered call.

"What is it, Mahala?"

"For G.o.d's sake, get up quick and call the boys down outen the loft."

"No!" he growled.

"I tell you, there's somebody outside--"

They were both sitting on the edge of the bed now, speaking in whispers.

"You're dreamin', ole 'oman," he persisted.

"I heard 'em. There's more'n one. I heard some on the other side of the house. I heard two in front. Call the boys down--"

"Don't wake the boys up fer nothin--"

"Is yer gun loaded?"

"No."

"Oh, my G.o.d."

"I ain't got no powder. I don't kill game in the springtime."

They both listened. All was still. They could hear the breathing of the little girls in the trundle bed.

The crunch of feet suddenly came to the doorstep. The woman's hand gripped her husband's arm in terror. He heard it now.

"That's funny," he mused.

"Call the boys!" the mother pleaded.

"_Wait_ till we find out what it is--"

A firm knock on the door echoed through the darkened room.

"G.o.d save us!" the woman breathed.

Doyle rose and quietly walked to the door.

"What is it?" he called in friendly tones.

"We're lost in the woods," a voice answered.

His wife had followed and gripped his arm.

"Don't open that door."

"Wait, Mother--"

"We're trying to find the way to Mr. Wilkinson's--can you tell us?"

"Sure I can."

He moved to open the door. Again his wife held him.

"Don't do it!"

Doyle brushed her aside.

"Don't be foolish, Mahala," he protested indignantly. "I'm a poor sort o' man if I can't tell a lost traveler the way out of the woods."

"They're lyin'!"

"We'll see."

He raised the latch and six men crashed their way through the door. John Brown led the a.s.sault. He held a dim lantern in his hand which he lifted above his head, as he surveyed the room. He kept his own face in shadow.

With a smothered cry, the mother backed against the trundle bed instinctively covering the sleeping figures of the girls.

Brown pointed a c.o.c.ked revolver at Doyle's breast and said in cold tones:

"Call those three boys down."