I put it back where she left
it,--and that's the end of it so far as I'm concerned. Damn these
cobwebs! Good Lord, I wonder if any of these spiders are poisonous!"
Brushing the cobwebs from his face as he ran, he hurried across the
cellar and bolted up the steps, out into the brilliant sunlight.
He made frantic efforts to remove the disgusting webs from his
garments, his eyes darting everywhere in search of the evil insects.
Presently he set to work replacing the staple and padlock, inserting
the nails in the holes they had left in the rotting board. He did
his best to fasten the scantlings down, making a sorry job of it,
and then, as he prepared to leave the premises, he was suddenly
seized by the uncanny feeling that some one was watching him.
His gaze swept the fields, the barn lot, even the high grass that
surrounded the house. There was no one in sight, and yet he could
FEEL the eyes of an invisible watcher.
Up in the garden patch, the scarecrow flapped his empty sleeves.
His hat was still tilted jauntily over his absent ear. It was
ridiculous to suppose that that uncanny object could see,--yet
somehow it seemed to Courtney that it WAS looking at him, looking
at him with malicious, accusing eyes.
Not once, but half a dozen times, he turned in the road to glance
over his shoulder at the house he had left behind. Always his gaze
went to the scarecrow.
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