been up all night assisting another undistinguished citizen into this
curious world of ours, and his task accomplished, he was driving
homeward in a drowsy mood enough. It was about two o'clock in the
morning, and the waning moon was rising. The summer night had gone cold,
and there was a low-lying whitish mist that made things indistinct. He
was quite alone--for his coachman was ill in bed--and there was nothing
to be seen on either hand but a drifting mystery of hedge running
athwart the yellow glare of his lamps, and nothing to hear but the
clitter-clatter of his horses and the gride and hedge echo of his
wheels. His horse was as trustworthy as himself, and one does not wonder
that he dozed....

You know that intermittent drowsing as one sits, the drooping of the
head, the nodding to the rhythm of the wheels then chin upon the breast,
and at once the sudden start up again.

_Pitter, litter, patter_.

"What was that?"

It seemed to the doctor he had heard a thin shrill squeal close at hand.
For a moment he was quite awake. He said a word or two of undeserved
rebuke to his horse, and looked about him. He tried to persuade himself
that he had heard the distant squeal of a fox--or perhaps a young rabbit
gripped by a ferret.

_Swish, swish, swish, pitter, patter, swish_--...

What was that?