“This sure is the craziest rough house I ever got mixed up in,” laughed Bill. “Old Baldy over there sounds like a French pig rooting for truffles—”
Dorothy grinned absent-mindedly, her thoughts on the next move to be made.
“We’ll let dese two pigs burrer an’ grunt down cellar,” declared Liza, straightening her turban and smoothing down her apron. “Dere’s a empty storeroom down dere—it’s got a strong door an’ a good bolt, too. Gimme a gun, please Miss Dor’thy. Me an’ Uncle Abe can ’tend ter dis white trash.”
The negress walked over to Eddie, who stared about the room, a dazed expression on his face.
“Git up an’ come along.”
Then as Eddie continued to look at her vacantly, she picked him up as if he were a baby and draped him over her broad shoulders.
“Yo’all go first, Liza,” said Uncle Abe. He prodded Chick with the gun he had taken from her. “Him an’ me’ll be right behin’.”
Dorothy and Bill watched the odd procession pass from the room.
“Whew!” she exclaimed. “That was a hectic five minutes. But how did you happen to be in here?”
“Got tired of sticking round outside, so slipped in by that window. Eddie was asleep at the time, but he woke up right afterward. Then you and Uncle Abe walked in—and you know the rest. Say, it must be Terry these guys nabbed. Wonder what’s become of Stoker and Betty?”