"What's
that?" she whispered, tensely.
Carley stood stockstill. They had reached the furthermost end of that
aisle, but had turned to go back. The flare of the camp fire threw a wan
light into the shadows before them. There came a rustling in the brush, a
snapping of twigs. Cold tremors chased up and down Carley's back.
"Shore it's a varmint, all right. Let's hurry," whispered Flo.
Carley needed no urging. It appeared that Flo was not going to run. She
walked fast, peering back over her shoulder, and, hanging to Carley's arm,
she rounded a large cedar that had obstructed some of the firelight. The
gloom was not so thick here. And on the instant Carley espied a low, moving
object, somehow furry, and gray in color. She gasped. She could not speak.
Her heart gave a mighty throb and seemed to stop.
"What--do you see?" cried Flo, sharply, peering ahead. "Oh! . . . Come,
Carley. Run!"
Flo's cry showed she must nearly be strangled with terror. But Carley was
frozen in her tracks. Her eyes were riveted upon the gray furry object. It
stopped. Then it came faster. It magnified. It was a huge beast. Carley had
no control over mind, heart, voice, or muscle. Her legs gave way. She was
sinking.
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