Reuben Stone's discovery : $b or, The young miller of Torrent BendStratemeyer, Edward
Philosophy
Reuben Stone's discovery : $b or, The young miller of Torrent Bend
Stratemeyer, Edward
Detective and mystery stories; Fraud -- Juvenile fiction; Mills and mill-work -- Juvenile fiction
Ten minutes went by. To me it seemed a perfect age.
Suddenly the crackling of some dead leaves broke upon my ear. Was some
one approaching?
I listened intently. The sound came nearer; and far behind it I heard
another sound, as of the footsteps of a man.
Wondering what it could mean, I stretched my neck and peered towards
the spot.
The next instant I gave a cry of horror.
Two shining eyes glared at me through an opening, and I heard the low
growl of some wild animal.
Words cannot express my feelings at this moment. My very heart seemed
to stop beating. I tried to cry out, but found I could not make a
sound.
At the edge of the opening the animal paused, as if to take in the
situation. Then it moved to a point somewhere behind me.
What was it? A fox, a wolf, or some larger animal? The very thought of
its presence gave me a thrill of horror.
For one moment all was silent. I saw or heard nothing of the animal.
Had it left the neighborhood? Oh, how I prayed that this might be so!
Then I heard the noise again, off to the right. At first it was faint,
as if going from me; but then it became louder, and I knew that the
animal was approaching once more.
How I wished that I was free and that I had my gun! But I was helpless,
and must take whatever came.
A moment dragged by slowly. My nerves were strung to the highest
tension. I strained my eyes, but could see nothing.
Suddenly I caught sight of the eyes again. To me they seemed like twin
stars, and my hair fairly stood on end as I beheld them.
Then came a growl, low at first, and then louder. It was the
unmistakable mutterings of a wolf!
I knew that Rock Island was infested by that species of wild animal.
Some years before my father and I had killed three of the beasts on the
south shore during the winter.
I tugged at the rope that bound me with might and main. Soon my right
wrist was so chafed that it began to bleed.
I was afraid the scent of blood would attract the wolf’s attention, and
in this I was not mistaken; for presently he stopped growling and took
a deep breath.
But my tuggings at the rope were not without result; for presently I
managed to squeeze my left hand through the tight opening. It hurt to
do so, but in the excitement of the moment this was not noticed.
My left hand free, I tried with all my power to make my right hand
follow.
Meanwhile the wolf, scenting the blood, stopped growling, and broke
into a short bark, not unlike that of a terrified dog. This struck
straight to my heart, for I knew that he was now getting ready to
attack me.
My right wrist was so lacerated by the rough rope that I found it
impossible to withdraw it. In trying to do so I merely made the blood
flow more freely, and this soon reached the wolf’s nose and made him
more savage than ever.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account