His sturdy knees were pressing the skirts of the saddle with a firmness that left no room for doubt as to the tension his nerves were under.

Now and then he murmured "My word!" but in what connection it is doubtful if even he could tell.

A quarter of an hour had passed since King disappeared through the doorway: Mr.Hobbs was getting nervous.
The shiftless, lanky goose-herd came forth in time, and lazily drove his scattered flock off into the lower glen.
The horses were becoming impatient.

To his extreme discomfort, not to say apprehension, they were constantly pricking their ears forward and snorting in the direction of the hovel; a very puzzling circumstance, thought Mr.Hobbs.At this point he began to say "dammit," and with some sense of appreciation, too.
Presently his eye caught sight of a thin stream of smoke, rather black than blue, arising from the little chimney at the rear of the cabin.
His eyes flew very wide open; his heart experienced a sudden throbless moment; his mind leaped backward to the unexplained smoke mystery of the day before.

It was on the end of his tongue to cry out to his unseen patron, to urge him to leave the Witch to her deviltry and come along home, when the old woman herself appeared in the doorway--alone.
She sat down upon the doorstep, pulling away at a long pipe, her hooded face almost invisible from the distance which he resolutely held.