Jim was appalled. Nothing was further from his thoughts than the burning of the prison-house; though a little reflection would have shown him that a figure fashioned of greasy clothes, and stuffed with rags, straw, shavings, and sundry valuables that slipped in unawares, could not burn within a few inches of a wooden building without setting it on fire.
“Fire! fire!” yelled the heroes, hardly knowing whether to be delighted or otherwise at the prospect of such a bon-fire.
In the excitement of the moment the search after Marmaduke was given up.
“Are—are we all out, or is somebody burnt up?” Will asked, wildly, but with rare presence of mind.
“Oh, boys, I did it, but I didn’t mean to burn the house,” Jim confessed. “All I wanted was to burn your impostor, and tell Marmaduke the truth, and—Ou! ou! ou! ou!” he shrieked. “There it is again! ou, ou!” and the boy with the chills took to his heels.
Jim practised running: on this occasion he was soon out of sight.
The rest looked in the direction pointed out by Jim, and beheld a figure in white gliding towards them. Was it a ghost, or some one wrapped up in a sheet, so foolish as to play the part of a ghost?
“Oh, dear;” gasped Steve, “what is going to happen next?”
All the boys were wrought up to a pitch of great excitement, and were more terrified than they cared to acknowledge. Henry’s thoughts reverted to his Greek history and Nemesis.