She did not feel quite so brave, though, when the light had gone, and
she heard the house-door bolted, and found herself and Dick shut in
alone in the dark in that great empty strange place. She did wish
that Mrs. Perry had seen fit to leave them the lantern. Rats loved
straw, Huldah knew, so did mice, and she was dreadfully afraid of
both. The moonlight shone in through the sides of the barn, and
Huldah had a feeling that eyes were at all the chinks, watching her.

To try to forget the rats and mice and not to see the eyes, she
nestled down in the straw, with one bundle at her head and another at
her back, and hoped she would soon fall asleep and forget everything.
But though she was so tired, or, perhaps, because she was overtired,
sleep when it did come was not sound or pleasant. Every time Dick
rustled the straw, she awoke. Every time a bird called or an owl
hooted, she started up wide awake. She woke once from a dream of her
uncle, with, as she thought, his voice echoing in her ear.
Another time she felt certain he was banging at the barn door, trying
to get in, to beat her and Dick, and take them both back.

"Oh, I wish it was morning!" she sighed, and sat up on her straw bed,
to see if daylight was beginning to dawn yet.

But all was dark still; even the moon had gone. She was just about
to lie wearily down again, when a real, not a dream sound, caught her
ear. The sound of nailed boots on stones, and stealthy footsteps.

"It really is someone climbing the wall and coming up the garden,"
she thought to herself, and her mouth and throat grew dry with
terror, and her heart beat suffocatingly. "Dick!" she gasped, in a
low voice. "Dick, they're coming, they've found us. Listen!"