Will watched to see if he, too, would pass by. He came on with a hesitating step, his hat drawn down low over his eyes, and his hand stroking his whisker in such a way that half his face was hidden.
The boy lay quiet as death, not a muscle moving.
The new-comer paused a moment opposite the gate, glancing furtively around; then, with a quick, stealthy movement he opened it and slipped in.
“Bet a goose I know you,” said Will to himself, as he rose to his feet. “Won’t there be ructions when I let the cat out of the bag! Guess the ’coons are all treed now. What’s the news, Joe?”
“Nothing,” said the latter, who had approached on seeing Will rise. “They’re all lambs my side of the house. What’s your luck?”
“Four foxes,” said Will, pointing to the gate. “There’s their hole,” he continued.
He indicated a window in the second story, in which a light had just appeared. A curtain inside came down to within an inch of the bottom.
“Want to follow it up?” asked Joe.
“If it’s in the wood.”
“Let’s shin it up that shed, then. We can climb like squirrels. It’s risky, but if there’s anything in it we ain’t afeard of risk.”