“Not afraid to stay here, are you?” said Dorothy.
“Oh, if you put it that way I’ll wash them,” he retorted.
“You do ’em tonight, and we’ll do ’em tomorrow—but we really must be going now.”
Ten minutes later, Betty and George chugged out of the drive in his flivver. Terry parked Bill’s car in back of the house, then he helped his friend to lift out the three large tins of gasoline they had brought with them from New Canaan.
“I’ll take two,” announced Bill, “and you’ll have to tote the other one, Dorothy.”
“Hadn’t I better carry it down the hill?” suggested Terry. “It’s kind of heavy.”
“No, thanks, I can manage it all right.” She lifted the can by its handle. “It’s not so heavy. Your job is to stay in the house. As it is, I hate leaving you here alone.”
Terry waved them off.
“I’ll be all right,” he scoffed. “I think we’ve got those guys buffaloed—for the time being, anyway.”
“Keep your rifle handy,” advised Bill, “and don’t open up to anyone except Stoker.”