“No, Henry, it’s too strong for that,” Will corrected. “That door used to be our raft; but we had to make a door, and there was nothing else to make it of; so we hauled it up stream, pounced on it, and tore it all to pieces.”
This was too true. The gallant old raft, which had served so useful a purpose as a source of amusement, had been sacrificed by the remorseless plotters to fill up the gap in the front doorway. But they, in their eagerness to further their daring scheme, would not have hesitated to destroy anything to which they could lay claim.
“It was too bad to waste a good raft on this old hen-house,” Henry observed.
“Oh, a prison without a door would be rather too much for even Marmaduke;” Will replied. “And the timbers of the raft are here yet, and we can build it over again next week.”
“Henry,” said Stephen, who had quite recovered his equilibrium, “it is in front of this door that the sentries do the patrolling, and ground their muskets, and——and——what else do sentries do, George?”
“Will,” said Henry, grimly, as his eyes roved over the yard, or orchard, “I guess it would need several pretty smart and nimble sentries to prevent any one from escaping from this ‘inclosure.’”
Then they opened the door and passed in. By the way, there was something very remarkable about that door—so remarkable, in fact, that the writer, who has had great experience in the building of playhouses (don’t look for this word in a dictionary, O foreigner, but ask any little boy to interpret it for you,) here pauses to note it. Though made by boys, it not only played smoothly on its hinges, but even entered the door-case, and admitted of being fastened!
“It must have cost you fellows a good deal to fit up this old hulk,” Henry remarked, as the boys showed him proudly through the house.
“Cost!” Stephen exclaimed warmly. “I should think it did cost! Besides that hammer that I lost, an old worn-out axe perished somewhere around here, after Will had hewed a pair of new boots all to pieces while dressing the new door. Among the five of us, we’ve worn out two suits of clothes, and made three hats ashamed of themselves, just since we started to tinker up this prison house. I’ve used all the salve and plaster in our house, and the day before you came I got another cut. That reminds me, Henry, when Will hewed his new boots he cut his big toe nearly clean off—come here, and I’ll show you the bloody mark.”
“Never mind,” said Henry. “I’ve just noticed, Steve, that the doors and walls and windows are thick with bloody gore.”