But she put
this out of her mind and walked along very fast, peering ahead into the
dusk. "Oh, it hasn't anything to do with wolves," she said in answer to
Molly's question; "anyhow, not now. It's just a big, deep hole in the
ground where a brook had dug out a cave. ... Uncle Henry told me all
about it when he showed it to me ... and then part of the roof caved in;
sometimes there's ice in the corner of the covered part all the summer,
Aunt Abigail says."
"Why do you call it the Wolf Pit?" asked Molly, walking very close to
Betsy and holding very tightly to her hand.
"Oh, long, ever so long ago, when the first settlers came up here, they
heard a wolf howling all night, and when it didn't stop in the morning,
they came up here on the mountain and found a wolf had fallen in and
couldn't get out."
"My! I hope they killed him!" said Molly.
"Oh, gracious! that was more than a hundred years ago," said Betsy. She
was not thinking of what she was saying. She was thinking that if they
WERE on the right road they ought to be home by this time. She was
thinking that the right road ran down hill to the house all the way, and
that this certainly seemed to be going up a little. She was wondering
what had become of Shep. "Stand here just a minute, Molly," she said. "I
want ... I just want to go ahead a little bit and see ... and see ..." She
darted on around a curve of the road and stood still, her heart sinking.
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