So they reserved their ammunition, and made themselves as comfortable as possible in their elevated position, waiting until it should take it into its head to depart.
“S’pose he stays here a week or two?” said Stebbins.
“Then we must do the same.”
“Why didn’t we think of the fire?” muttered Black Tom.
“What did yer want to think ’bout that?” asked old Stebbins.
“If he don’t care fur rifle-balls, it’s likely he’s afeard of that. If I had only slammed a lot of fire in his face, he’d left.”
“Better not try it,” returned the elder.
“Why not?”
“’Tain’t noways likely it would have hurt him, and he might have cotched you up and slammed you in the fire.”
This was a fearful supposition, and all three shuddered at the thought of the brute venting his spite in such a manner.