"Mary," cried the mother, "don't you dare!"
"But think of poor old Sant, ma."
"Never you mind old Santo. We're lucky to be safe ourselves, I tell you.
Never mind old Santo. Don't you dare to go out there, Mary--Mary!"
The girl had unlocked the door and stepped out upon the porch. The
mother cried in despair, "Mary!"
"Why, there isn't anybody out here," the girl called in response. She
stood for a moment with a curious smile upon her face as of gleeful
satisfaction at her daring.
The breeze was waving the boughs of the apple trees. A rooster with an
air importantly courteous was conducting three hens upon a foraging
tour. On the hillside at the rear of the gray old barn the red leaves of
a creeper flamed amid the summer foliage. High in the sky clouds rolled
toward the north. The girl swung impulsively from the little stoop and
ran toward the barn.
The great door was open, and the carved peg which usually performed the
office of a catch lay on the ground. The girl could not see into the
barn because of the heavy shadows. She paused in a listening attitude
and heard a horse munching placidly. She gave a cry of delight and
sprang across the threshold. Then she suddenly shrank back and gasped.
She had confronted three men in gray seated upon the floor with their
legs stretched out and their backs against Santo's manger. Their
dust-covered countenances were expanded in grins.