Our Breakfast Had Been Very Early That Morning, On Account Of The
Troops Marching, And I Was Tired And Fell
Asleep immediately, I think.
After a while I was conscious of hearing some one walking about in the
room corresponding
To mine in the next house, but I dozed on, thinking
to myself that there was no occasion for feeling nervous, as the
people next door were still up. But suddenly I remembered that the
house was closed, and just then I distinctly heard some one go down
the stairs. I kept very still and listened, but heard nothing more and
soon went to sleep again, but again I was awakened - this time by queer
noises - like some one walking on a roof. There were voices, too, as if
some one was mumbling to himself.
I got the revolver and ran to the middle of the room, where I stood
ready to shoot or run - it would probably have been run - in any
direction. I finally got courage to look through a side window,
feeling quite sure that Mrs. Norton was out with her Chinaman, looking
after some choice little chickens left in her care by the doctor. But
not one light was to be seen in any place, and the inky blackness was
awful to look upon, so I turned away, and just as I did so, something
cracked and rattled down over the shingles and then fell to the
ground. But which roof those sounds came from was impossible to tell.
With "goose flesh" on my arms, and each hair on my head trying to
stand up, I went back to the middle of the room, and there I stood,
every nerve quivering.
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