CHAPTER XXIII

The town was as silent as a city of the dead when the four started on their way, Master Storms--a fussy, irritable old gentleman--in advance, with his pretty daughter Patience hanging on his arm, and followed closely by the small erect figure of Dorothy, wrapped in her dark cloak; while Johnnie Strings, on guard against any unseen danger, walked directly behind her. There were hurrying masses of cloud overhead that made gorges and ravines, hemming in the glittering stars, now grown brighter since the moon had set; …