you game to follow me, my man? that's the question," I said. Bagley fell
in without a word, and saluted. I knew then I had nothing to fear.

We went, so far as I could guess, exactly as I had come; when I heard
that sigh. The darkness, however, was so complete that all marks, as of
trees or paths, disappeared. One moment we felt our feet on the gravel,
another sinking noiselessly into the slippery grass, that was all. I had
shut up my lantern, not wishing to scare any one, whoever it might be.
Bagley followed, it seemed to me, exactly in my footsteps as I made my
way, as I supposed, towards the mass of the ruined house. We seemed to
take a long time groping along seeking this; the squash of the wet soil
under our feet was the only thing that marked our progress. After a while
I stood still to see, or rather feel, where we were. The darkness was
very still, but no stiller than is usual in a winter's night. The sounds
I have mentioned--the crackling of twigs, the roll of a pebble, the sound
of some rustle in the dead leaves, or creeping creature on the
grass--were audible when you listened, all mysterious enough when your
mind is disengaged, but to me cheering now as signs of the livingness of
nature, even in the death of the frost. As we stood still there came up
from the trees in the glen the prolonged hoot of an owl. Bagley started
with alarm, being in a state of general nervousness, and not knowing what
he was afraid of. But to me the sound was encouraging and pleasant, being
so comprehensible.

"An owl," I said, under my breath. "Y--es, Colonel," said Bagley, his
teeth chattering. We stood still about five minutes, while it broke into
the still brooding of the air, the sound widening out in circles, dying
upon the darkness. This sound, which is not a cheerful one, made me
almost gay. It was natural, and relieved the tension of the mind. I moved
on with new courage, my nervous excitement calming down.