Explore "The Golden Snare" by James Oliver Curwood on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
For a space Philip thought that the cry must have come from Bram Johnson himself -- that the wolf-man had returned in the pit of the storm. Against his breast Celie had apparently ceased to breathe. Both listened for a repetition of the sound, or for a signal at the barred door. It was strange that in that moment the wind should die down until they could hear the throbbing of their own hearts. Celie's was pounding like a little hammer, and all at once he pressed his face down against hers and laughed with sudden and joyous understanding.
"It was only the wind, dear," he said. "I never heard anything like it before -- never! It even fooled the wolves. Bless your dear little heart how it frightened you! And it was enough, too. Shall we light some of Bram's candles?"