With an uneasy glance now and then over his shoulder as if he feared the old woman might be in pursuit of him, he hurried back down the ladder to the closed door in the drift, pulled the door shut behind him and put the padlock in place before he breathed naturally.
He stopped then to put on his shoes, made his way to the drift opening and listened again for voices or footsteps.

When he found the way clear he hurried out and back to the dugout.

The first thing he did was to fill his pipe and light it.

Even then the sonorous voice of the old woman intoning her dreadful proclamation against the world rang in his ears and sent occasional ripples of horror down his spine.

Seen through the window, she had looked a sad, lonely old lady who needed sympathy and help.