Then I saw that it was shaking all over,
and the sides, flapping as much as the tightness of the ropes allowed,
were the cause of the booming sound we had heard. Something alive was
tearing frantically about inside, banging against the stretched canvas
in a way that made me think of a great moth dashing against the walls
and ceiling of a room. The tent bulged and rocked.
"It's trying to get out, by Jupiter!" muttered the clergyman, rising to
his feet and turning to the side where the unloaded rifle lay. I sprang
up too, hardly knowing what purpose was in my mind, but anxious to be
prepared for anything. John Silence, however, was before us both, and
his figure slipped past and blocked the doorway of the tent. And there
was some quality in his voice next minute when he began to speak that
brought our minds instantly to a state of calm obedience.
"First--the women's tent," he said low, looking sharply at Maloney, "and
if I need your help, I'll call."
The clergyman needed no second bidding.
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