Ann gave a shuddering sigh. “I would I were home again!” she moaned. “They said ’twas full of evil things, and that the black man himself kept tavern there since Goodman Proctor and his wife were in jail. Did you mind what Goodwife Putnam said of the black head, like a hog’s, that Goodman Perley saw at the keeping-room window as he passed, and the rumbling noises, and the yellow birds that flew around the chimney and twittered in a psalm tune? Oh, Joseph, there is a yellow bird now in the birch-tree--see! see!” They had come into a little space where the woods were thinner. Joseph urged his horse forward. “We will not slack our pace for any black beasts nor any yellow birds,” he cried, in a valiant voice. There was a passing gleam of little yellow wings above the birch-tree. “He has flown away,” said Ann. “’Tis best to front them as you do, goodman, but I have not the courage. That looked like a common yellow-bird; his wings shone like gold. Think you it has gone forward to the Proctor house?” “It matters not, so it but fly up before us,” said Joseph Bayley. He was somewhat older than Ann; fair-haired and fair-bearded, with blue eyes set so deeply under heavy brows that they looked black. His face was at once stern and nervous, showing not only the spirit of warfare against his foes, but the elements of strife within himself. They rode on, and the woods grew thicker; the horse’s hoofs made only a faint liquid pad on the mossy road. Suddenly he stopped and whinnied. Ann clutched her husband’s arm; they sat motionless, listening; the horse whinnied again. Suddenly Joseph started violently, and stared into the woods on the left, and Ann also. A long defile of dark evergreens stretched up the hill, with mysterious depths of blue-black shadows between them; the air had an earthy dampness. Joseph shook the reins fiercely over the horse’s back, and shouted to him in a loud voice. “Did you see it?” gasped Ann, when they had come into a lighter place. “Was it not a black man?” “Fear not; we have outridden him,” said her husband, setting his thin intense face proudly ahead. “I would we were safe home in Newbury,” Ann moaned. “I would we had never set out. Think you not Dr. Mather will ride back from Boston with us to keep the witches off? I will bide there forever, if he will not. I will never come this dreadful road again, else. What is that? Oh, what is that? ’Tis a voice coming out of the woods like a great roar. _Joseph!_ What is _that_? That was a black cat run across the road into the bushes. ’Twas a black cat. Joseph, let us turn back! No; the black man is behind us, and the beast. What shall we do? What shall we do? Oh, oh, I begin to twitch like Ann and Mercy last night! My feet move, and I cannot stop them! Now there is a pin thrust in my arm! I am pinched! There are fingers at my throat! Joseph! Joseph!”