"
"You don't think it's a trap?" asked my uncle.
Jack Whiteclett smiled slightly. The idea of the Navy pausing to weigh
the risk appeared to amuse him.
"We must take our chance," he said briefly. "We've both got our
shooting irons."
"And so have I," I added, "and certainly _I_ am going to the Scollays.
You can trust Miss Rendall!"
"You can that!" said the doctor heartily. "And if you don't mind I'll
come with you."
I saw doubt in my uncle's eye and put in quickly.
"Certainly, doctor! We may all be needed. Come on!"
It was quite dark, and mortal cold; the road was frozen hard and the
nor'east wind swept over it without a break from wall or hedge-row. We
all four trotted for a little to get up our circulation and then settled
down to a fast five-mile-an-hour walk. About half the distance had been
covered when I first heard a little sound ahead.
"What's that!" I exclaimed, and we stood still and listened.
"Somebody running!" said my cousin.
"Towards us?" asked Sir Francis.
"Yes."
Plainer and plainer sounded the pattering steps on the frozen road, and
as they drew nearer I thought I could tell that they were light steps--a
woman's or a boy's, they seemed.
"Let's drop into the ditch and see who it is," whispered Jack.
We broke, two of us to either side of the road, and I found myself with
my uncle stooping in one ditch, with Jack and the doctor across the road
in the other.
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