"No, Gretchen, you needn't be afraid. I'll go with you mornin's and carry the gun. I like to walk mornin's under the trees, the air does smell so sweet."
That night, just as the last low tints of the long twilight had disappeared and the cool, dewy airs began to move among the pines, a long, deep, fearful cry was heard issuing from the timber. Mrs. Woods started up from her bed and called, "Gretchen!"
The girl had been awakened by the cry, which might have been that of a child of a giant in pain.
"Let's get up and go out," said Gretchen.
Presently the same long, clear, pitiable cry, as if some giant distress, was repeated.
"It seems human," said Mrs. Woods. "It makes me want to know what it is. Yes, let us get up and go out."
The cry was indeed pleading and magnetic. It excited pity and curiosity. There was a strange, mysterious quality about it that drew one toward it. It was repeated a third time and then ceased.
There was a family by the name of Bonney who had taken a donated claim some miles from the Woodses on the Columbia. They had two boys who attended the school.
Early the next morning one of these boys, named Arthur, came over to the Woodses in great distress, with a fearful story.
"Something," he said, "has killed all of our cattle. They all lie dead near the clearing, just as though they were asleep. They are not injured, as we can see; they are not shot or bruised, nor do they seem to be poisoned--they are not swelled--they look as though they were alive--but they are cold--they are just dead. Did you hear anything in the timber last night?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Woods. "Wasn't it mysterious? Lost your cattle, boy? I am sorry for your folks. Mabbie (may be) 'tis Injuns."
"No; father says that he can find no injury on them."
"'Tis awful mysterious like," said Mrs. Woods, "cattle dyin' without anything ailin' 'em! I've always thought this was a good country, but I don't know. Tell your folks I'm sorry for 'em. Can I do anything for you? I'll come over and see ye in the course of the day."
That night the same strange, wild, pleading cry was repeated in the timber.
"There's something very strange about that sound," said Mrs. Woods. "It makes me feel as though I must run toward it. It draws me. It makes me feel curi's. It has haunted me all day, and now it comes again."