“And we’ll keep on some more,” I said sharp. “They ain’t got us or the turbine yet.”
“They’ll git us,” he says, and then grinned sly-like, with that cunning look to his eyes that always comes into them when he’s got a scheme. “They’ll git us, but maybe they’ll be consid’rable disapp’inted about the t-t-t—”
“Turbine,” says I. “How so? If they git to the cave they’ll have it, won’t they?”
“It looks that way,” says he, “but you never can tell.”
I got up and looked inside. There, covered up with the sheets, was the engine, so I knew Mark was only talking to encourage me.
Batten and Bill stood up and faced around to us so we could see what they had been making.
“There!” says Mark. “What’d I tell you?”
Sure enough. They had made shelters out of those willow branches. Not shields, but just big green bundles tied together with handkerchiefs and string. They were so big that when Batten and Bill held them up nothing but their feet showed.
Right off they started up the hill. The attack commenced.
“Shoot,” says Mark, “and keep on shootin’.”