Quite an hour must have passed, and it had grown dark in that room,
where the heads of moose, elk, bear, and mountain sheep looked down upon
us from the walls, and the old clock had it all its own way,
_tick-tack_. For neither of us spoke; I confess that I dared not.
Perhaps it was childish to feel so upset; perhaps it was natural, for I
had been over-wrought, and the pain I had suffered was more than I could
bear.
Esau, too, was overcome, I was sure; but it always after remained a
point of honour with us never to allude to the proceedings of that night
when we remained there back to back without uttering a word, and, till
we heard steps, without moving. Then we both started round as if guilty
of something of which we were ashamed. But the steps passed the door,
and they did not sound like those of Mr Raydon; and once more we waited
for his return.
It grew darker and darker, and as I slowly let my eyes wander about the
walls, there on one side was the long, melancholy-looking head of a
moose, with its broad, far-spreading horns, seeming to gaze at me
dolefully, and on the other I could see the open jaws and grinning white
fangs of a grizzly bear, apparently coming out of the gloom to attack
me, while the deer's heads about were looking on to see what would be
the result. The place was all very strange, and the silence began to be
painful, for only at intervals was there some distant step.
At last, though, there came a loud, fierce barking, and it was quite
inspiriting to hear so familiar a sound. This made Esau take a long
breath as if he felt relieved, and it unlocked his tongue at once.
"Hah!" he said; "seems quite natural-like to hear a dog bark. Wonder
what he is? Bet sixpence he's a collie. Yes, hark at him. That's a
collie's bark, I know."