Again the beast sent its cry
out upon the wind, and the girl trembled as she listened. The
unearthly wail seemed charged with augury, and every nerve in her
thrilled.
Then she sank down into her chair again, and sat still, hoping,
listening, fearing, and wondering when the day would come, until at
last her eyes grew heavy, and it was with a start she roused herself
when a rattle of wheels came up out of the prairie in the early
morning. Then a spume-flecked team swept up to the house, a door
swung open, there was a murmur of voices and a sound of feet that
moved softly in the hall, after which, for what seemed an
interminable time, silence reigned again. At last, when the stealthy
patter of feet recommenced, the girl slipped down the stairway and
came upon Barrington. Still, she could not ask the question that was
trembling on her lips.
"Is there anything I can do?" she said.
Barrington shook his head. "Not now! The doctor is here, and does
not seem very anxious about him. The concussion is not apparently
serious, and his other injuries will not trouble him much."
Maud Barrington said nothing and turned away, sensible of a great
relief, while her aunt entering her room an hour later found her
lying fast asleep, but still dressed as she had last seen her. Then,
being a discerning woman, she went out softly with a curious smile,
and did not at any time mention what she had seen.
It was that evening, and Barrington had departed suddenly on business
to Winnipeg, when Dane rode up to the Grange.
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