She delayed for no criticism or demur on Iley's part, but was off with the last word, and once out of sight of Jim Cal's cabin she took a short cut through the woods and ran; but in spite of her best efforts darkness began to gather before she won to the high road, for the evening had closed in early, thick and threatening; a mountain thunder-storm was brewing. Opposite a tempestuous, magnificent sunset, there had reared in the eastern sky a tremendous thunder-head, a palace of a thousand snowy domes, turning to gold, and then flushing from base to crown like a gigantic many-petalled rose. It swept steadily up and over, hiding the sky, and leaving the earth in almost complete darkness. There were low rolls of thunder, at first mellow and almost musical, crashing always louder and stronger as they came nearer. The wind thrashed and yelled through the tossing forest; and as she approached the Card cabin she heard the banging of barn shutters, the whipping of tree boughs against the windows. There were the first spears of rain flung at roof and door; and it was in the torrent itself which followed fast that Huldah beat upon that closed door, giving her name and demanding entrance. Within, Creed Bonbright sprang up from where he sat with a book in his hand, his eyes fixed on vacancy, and would have answered her, but Old Nancy put a hasty palm over his lips. "Hush--for God's sake," she whispered. They stood in the lighted cabin, all on foot by this time, and listened intently, tall Creed, the little grey-haired woman clinging to him and restraining him, Doss with his light eyes goggling, and Little Buck and Beezy hand in hand, studying their grandmother's face, not their father's. "Who is it?" quavered Nancy. "I'm all alone in here, and I'm scared to let wayfarers in." "It's me--Huldy Spiller--Aunt Nancy," called back the voice in the rain. "Well, I vow! You know how things air, Huldy--what do ye want, chile?" "I want Creed Bonbright. I've got something to tell him." "Thar--ye see now," breathed the old woman, turning toward Creed. Then she raised her voice. "He ain't here, honey," she lied unhesitatingly. "Why don't ye go to his office--that's whar he stays at." "Oh, for the Lord's sake--Aunt Nancy!" came back the girl's shrill, terrified tones. "I've done been to the office; I know in reason Creed ain't there, or he'd a-answered me. Please let me in; I'm scared some of the Turrentines'll come an' ketch me." At this Creed strode to the door, Nancy dragging back on his arm and Buck and Beezy seconding her with all their small might, while Provine spluttered ineffectually in the background. "Hit's a lie," hissed Nancy. "She's a decoy. Ef you open that thar do' with the light on ye, they'll shoot ye over her shoulders. Hit was did to my man thataway in feud times. Don't you open the do' Creed."