Only by looking at his watch did he know when the night closed in.
It was seven o'clock when he led Celie to her room and urged her
to go to bed. An hour later, listening at her door, he believed
that she was asleep. He had waited for that, and quietly he
prepared for the hazardous undertaking he had set for himself. He
put on his cap and coat and seized the club he had taken from
Bram's bed. Then very cautiously he opened the outer door. A
moment later he stood outside, the door closed behind him, with
the storm pounding in his face.
Fifty yards away he could not have heard the shout of a man. And
yet he listened, gripping his club hard, every nerve in his body
strained to a snapping tension. Somewhere within that small circle
of the corral were Bram Johnson's wolves, and as he hesitated with
his back to the door he prayed that there would come no lull in
the storm during the next few minutes. It was possible that he
might evade them with the crash and thunder of the gale about him.
They could not see him, or hear him, or even smell him in that
tumult of wind unless on his way to the gate he ran into them.
Pages:
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181