Listen!"
CHAPTER XII
A NIGHT ALARM
Mary Nestor spoke with such earnestness, and her action in
catching hold of Tom's arm to enjoin silence was so pronounced
that, though he had at first regarded the matter in the light of
a joke, he soon thought otherwise. He glanced from the girl's
face to the dense underbrush on either side of the woodland path.
"What is it, Mary?" he asked in a whisper.
"I don't just know. I heard whispering, and thought it was the
rustling of the leaves of the trees. Then someone spoke your name
quite loudly. Didn't you hear it?"
Tom shook his head in negation.
"It may be Ned and his friend," he whispered, his lips close to
Mary's ear.
"I think not," was her answer. "Listen; there it is again."
Distinctly then, Tom heard, from some opening in the screen of
bushes, his own name spoken. "Did you hear it?" asked Mary,
barely forming the words with her lips. But Tom could read their
motion.
"Yes," he nodded. Then, motioning to Mary to remain where she
was, he stepped forward, taking care to tread only on grassy
places where there were no little twigs or branches to break and
betray his presence.
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