“You must be crazy,” grunted the Colonel, “guess I’d better be pushing along. I’m going over to let those Bushwhackers know just where they stand.”
“Dear Colonel, don’t go to Bushwhackers’ Place,” begged Smythe. “They’ll shoot you as sure as you are born.”
“They certainly will,” confirmed Watson.
The Colonel nodded.
“Let ’em,” he grated, and, picking up his rifle, he passed out followed by the distressed Smythe.
When they had gone Watson lifted the trap-door.
“You idiot,” he fumed, “you almost cooked our goose with your stinkin’ Canada-Green tobacco. I’ll be mighty glad to see the last of your red head, Amos. No, you mus’n’t come up yet. Be patient for five minutes longer; then, away you go. And may you not stop until you’ve crossed the border.”
“I’ll lose no time, don’t you fear,” whispered a hoarse voice from the darkness, and Watson let the trap-door fall with a shudder.
CHAPTER XXIX
Blue Skies and a Cloud
Had Colonel Hallibut known that the Bushwhackers had awaited the melting of the snows quite as impatiently as he himself had, it might have surprised him. And had he known that the Bushwhackers were just as eager to have an explanation from him as he was to have an explanation from the Bushwhackers, he certainly would have been somewhat puzzled.