Joan made no attempt to escape.

"S-sh!" she cautioned, and raised a plump little forefinger.

"Munner, don't you hear?
Don't you like it ?" As if the sound had turned a corner, it broke all at once clearly over them in a rain of music; a man's whistling.

It went out; it flooded about them again like beautiful, cold light.

Once again it stopped, and now they sensed, rather than heard, a light, rapid, padding step that approached the cabin.