And now,
sudden as it had come, it was gone, but in its place was another
sound,--a sound dull and muffled, but continuous, and pierced, all
at once, by the loud, hideous whinnying of a horse. Then Barnabas
sprang back to the doors, beating upon them with his fists and
calling wildly for some one to open.
And, in a while, a key grated, a bolt shrieked; the doors swung back,
revealing Martin, half-dressed and with a lantern in his hand, while
three or four undergrooms hovered, pale-faced, in the shadows behind.
"My horse!" said Barnabas, and snatched the lantern.
"'The Terror'!" cried Milo, "this way, sir!"
Coming to a certain shadowy corner, Barnabas unfastened and threw
open the half-door; and there, rising from the gloom of the stall,
was a fiendish, black head with ears laid back, eyes rolling, and
teeth laid bare,--cruel teeth, whose gleaming white was hatefully
splotched,--strong teeth, in whose vicious grip something yet dangled.
"Why--what's he got there!" cried Martin suddenly, and then--
"Oh, my God! sir,--look yonder!" and, covering his eyes, he pointed
towards a corner of the stall where the light of the lantern fell.
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