"Let's explore in
that direction."
They made their way leisurely toward the rear and had almost passed the
house, when a deep roar broke the stillness. It was succeeded by
another, and another, like the bellowing of a mad bull, and the
intruders stopped short and Louise clung to her uncle in sudden panic.
"Be still, Will! Stop, I say--stop!"
A sharp crack, as of a lash, accompanied the words, and a moan or two
was followed by absolute silence.
Uncle John and Louise looked at one another with startled eyes.
"He must be worse," said the old gentleman, mopping his forehead with a
handkerchief.
With one accord they started softly to retrace their steps when a new
sound halted them again. It was a clear, fresh young voice singing a
plaintive ditty in a nonchalant, careless tone.
"That's Ethel, I'm sure," exclaimed Louise, grasping her uncle's arm.
"Well, what shall we do?" he demanded.
"Mr.--the crazy man seems quiet now," she whispered. "Let us find the
girl, if we can."
So again they traversed the path and this time came to the pretty garden
behind the house. Ethel was tending a flower bed. She wore her gingham
dress and a sunbonnet, and, kneeling in the path, stretched out her slim
brown arm to uproot the weeds. But the crunching of the gravel aroused
her attention, and, observing her visitors, she sprang up and hastened
toward them.
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