gave me a chill. Some one must be prowling about the van, but in the
falling rain I could hear nothing.

I felt I must do something. I was afraid to call out lest I betray
the fact that there was only a woman in the van. My expedient was
absurd enough, but at any rate it satisfied my desire to act. I
seized one of my boots and banged vigorously on the floor, at the
same time growling in as deep and masculine a voice as I could
muster: "What the hell's the matter? What the hell's the matter?"
This sounds silly enough, I dare say, but it afforded me some
relief. And as Bock shortly ceased growling, it apparently served
some purpose.

I lay awake for a long time, tingling all over with nervousness.
Then I began to grow calmer, and was getting drowsy almost in spite
of myself when I was aroused by the unmistakable sound of Bock's
tail thumping on the floor--a sure sign of pleasure. This puzzled
me quite as much as his growls. I did not dare strike a light, but
could hear him sniffing at the door of the van and whining with
eagerness. This seemed very uncanny, and again I crept stealthily
out of the bunk and pounded on the floor lustily, this time with the
frying pan, which made an unearthly din. Peg neighed and snorted,
and Bock began to bark. Even in my anxiety I almost laughed. "It
sounds like an insane asylum," I thought, and reflected that
probably the disturbance was only caused by some small animal.
Perhaps a rabbit or a skunk which Bock had winded and wanted to
chase. I patted him, and crawled into my bunk once more.

But my real excitement was still to come. About half an hour later
I heard unmistakable footsteps alongside the van. Bock growled