“How should I know?” says I.
“You don’t want to be the boss?”
“No, but I want to do something.”
“All right. I’ll do whatever you say.” He waited a minute. “But if you haven’t any ideas, why, leave me alone. We’ve got to trust some to luck.”
“If we get caught in here,” says I, “we’ll need something besides luck. What we’ll need will be a two-inch plank inside the seat of our pants.”
And then, so sudden it almost made me jump out of my shoes, a voice out of the darkness says, “Who’s there?”
We dropped flat and didn’t even breathe. The man came nosing over and went past us. It was lucky he didn’t have a light.
“I heard somebody, sure’s shooting,” he muttered. “Better git me a lantern.”
He moved past, and Catty whispered in my ear. “He’ll be back with a light.”
“Yes,” says I, “and then what’ll happen to us can’t be played on a flute.”