"
"Of course they will. How can we help it?"
"I should never dare show my face in the settlement again, if this
night's work should become known," continued Lester, who was almost
ready to cry with vexation. "It would ruin me completely, and you,
too. Don and Bert would ask no better fun than to spread it all over,
and your chances of carrying the mail would be knocked higher than a
kite. Let's pull off some of these shingles and throw them at the
dogs. Perhaps we can drive them away."
"You don't know them as well as I do. They'll not drive worth a cent.
We're here, and here we must stay until somebody comes and calls them
away. We'll hail the first nigger we see in the morning, and perhaps
we can hire him to help us and keep his mouth shut."
This was poor consolation for Lester, but it was the best Bob had to
offer. Things turned out just as he said they would. They sat there
on the ridge pole for more than four hours, Lester racking his brain,
in the hope of conjuring up some plan for driving the dogs away, and
Bob grumbling lustily over the ill luck which met him at every turn.
At last, when they had grown so cold that they could scarcely talk,
and Lester began to be really afraid that he should freeze to death,
the gray streaks of dawn appeared in the east.
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