Jule consented to bring his eleven children over the next morning
for work, and George felt much better as he hurried back, Spot
trailing along behind. He had almost reached the clearing just
a short distance from home when the storm broke furiously. The
wind howled and whined through the pines which were bending and
swaying like an army of ghosts. The dusk was as dark as a moonless
night. George was blinded momentarily by the rain and could see
plainly only when the jagged lightning burst from the clouds.
"Even the ghost of Harriet wouldn't be caught out on a night
like this," he said to himself, and, calling to Spot, he
broke into a run.
He was drawing a breath of relief as he neared the house when a noise rose above the thunder. In the next flash of lightning George was sure he caught a glimpse of a flying monster coming to earth. In a second the huge, ungainly form had struck him backward in the mud and cold, and bony fingers clutched his throat.
The clammy hands were slowly pressing the life out of George. A bright flash of lightning revealed an old woman with streaming gray hair sitting astride him with one bony knee pressing against his chest. Her eyes were big, cavernous, and brilliant green. Saliva drooled from her wide mouth and her teeth were brown and snaggy.