What could be happening
out there? Were those men planning some new attempt? Or had they
decided it was better to wait for a larger force? The silence and
uncertainty were harder to combat than the violence of assault; she
struggled to refrain from screaming. Cavendish never moved, his gun
flung forward across the improvised barricade, the very grip of his
hand proving the intensity of nervous strain. Something caused him to
glance toward her.
"Looks as though they had enough of it," he said grimly, "and have
decided to starve us out."
"Oh, do you think so? I heard a noise then."
He heard it also, his glance returning instantly to the front, his form
stiffening into preparation. For a moment neither could determine the
meaning of the sounds. Then he cocked his gun, the sharp click echoing
almost loudly in the stillness.
"Trying the window this time," he murmured, "Do you hear that? Be
ready."
Nothing happened; even the slight noise in the outer room ceased; there
was not a sound except their own breathing. The two knelt motionless,
peering over the edge of the bed into the dim twilight, seeing nothing,
each with finger on trigger--tense, expectant.
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