The pain was cruel, but, no matter, I must not lose any time;
he might come back at any moment; so I limped on three legs to the
other end of the hall, where there was a dark little stairway leading
up into a garret where old boxes and such things were kept, as I had
heard say, and where people seldom went. I managed to climb up there,
then I searched my way through the dark among the piles of things,
and hid in the secretest place I could find. It was foolish to be
afraid there, yet still I was; so afraid that I held in and hardly
even whimpered, though it would have been such a comfort to whimper,
because that eases the pain, you know. But I could lick my leg,
and that did some good.
For half an hour there was a commotion downstairs, and shoutings,
and rushing footsteps, and then there was quiet again. Quiet for
some minutes, and that was grateful to my spirit, for then my fears
began to go down; and fears are worse than pains--oh, much worse.
Then came a sound that froze me. They were calling me--calling me
by name--hunting for me!
It was muffled by distance, but that could not take the terror out of it,
and it was the most dreadful sound to me that I had ever heard.
It went all about, everywhere, down there: along the halls, through all
the rooms, in both stories, and in the basement and the cellar;
then outside, and farther and farther away--then back, and all
about the house again, and I thought it would never, never stop.
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