Bob,
who was in earnest and not in the least alarmed, moved with noiseless
footsteps, while Lester, preferring to let the robber escape rather
than face him with no better weapon than a fence picket in his hand,
made all the noise he conveniently could, hoping that the man would
take the alarm and run out of the smoke-house before they could reach
it. But the thief was so busily engaged that he did not hear their
approach, and never dreamed of danger until the boys halted in front
of the door and ordered him to come out and give himself up. We ought
rather to say that Bob halted in front of the door and boldly stood
his ground there, while Lester took care to shelter himself behind
the building, and showed only the top of his cap to the robber.
"We've got you now, you rascal!" exclaimed Bob, bringing his club
against the side of the smokehouse with a sounding whack. "Come out
and surrender yourself, or we'll come in and take you out."
"Yes," chimed in Lester, in a trembling voice, at the same time
hitting the building a very feeble blow with his fence picket. "Come
out, and be quick about it. There are a dozen of us here, enough to
make----"
Lester finished the sentence with a prolonged shriek of terror, for
just then something that seemed to move with the speed and power of
a lightning express train, dashed out of the intense darkness which
concealed all objects in the interior of the smoke-house, and Lester
received a glancing blow on the shoulder that floored him on the
instant.
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