Out, out they looked, out, out--.
"Sam!"
"Yes."
"You saw, too?"
An answering pressure of the hand.
"The eyes of him, only the eyes--out there at the edge of the corn!"
"It's the third time, Margaret." Despite the man's effort his breath
tightened. "They're all about: a score at least--I don't know how many.
The tall grass there to the east is alive--"
"Sam! They're there again--the eyes! Oh, I'm afraid--Sam--baby!"
"Hush! Leave her where she is. Don't seem afraid. It's our only chance.
Let them make the first move." Again the hand pressure so tight that,
although she made no sound, the blood left the woman's fingers. "Tell me
you forgive me, Margaret; before anything happens. I'm a criminal to
have stayed here,--I see it now, a criminal!"
"Don't!"
"But I must. Tell me you forgive me. Tell me."
"I love you, Sam."
Again in the expanse of grass to the east there was motion; not in a
single spot but in a dozen places. No living being was visible, not a
sound broke the stillness of evening; simply here and there it stirred,
and became motionless, and stirred again.
"And--Margaret. If worst comes to worst they mustn't take either of us
alive. The last one--I can't say it. You understand."
"Yes, I understand. The last load--But maybe--"
"It's useless to deceive ourselves. They wouldn't come this way
if--Margaret, in God's name--"
"But baby, Sam!" Of a sudden she was struggling fiercely beneath the
grip that kept her back.
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