" But no, it moved. Yan had a big stick in his hand. He
shouted: "Sh, sh, sh!" Again the "corpse" moved. Yan groped on the
road for some stones and sent one straight at the "white thing." He
heard a "whooff" and a rush. The "white thing" sprang up and ran past
him with a clatter that told him he had been scared by Granny de
Neuville's white-faced cow. At first the reaction made him weak at the
knees, but that gave way to a better feeling. If a harmless old Cow
could lie out there all night, why should he fear? He went on more
quietly till he neared the rise in the road. He should soon see the
little Elm. He kept to the left of the highway and peered into the
gloom, going more slowly. He was not so near as he had supposed, and
the tension of the early part of the expedition was coming back more
than ever. He wondered if he had not passed the Elm--should he go
back? But no, he could not bear the idea; that would mean retreat.
Anyhow, he would put his chalk mark here to show how far he did get.
He sneaked cautiously toward the fence to make it, then to his relief
made out the Elm not twenty-five feet away. Once at the tree, he
counted off the four panels westward and knew that he was opposite the
grave of the suicide.
Pages:
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373