By the time that he decided that the branches looked like the antlers of two great deer, standing with their heads close together, Billy reached the door.
He stood a moment looking down at the old canal. He was surprised to see how far below the door the canal really lay. The dry spot at the end had some ugly stones in it, too. Just as well to have a place like that filled in.
Looking again at the old willow, Billy turned and went slowly back down the corridor and out the great door.
When Mr. Prescott finally came back, Billy was on his afternoon rounds.
Things were very quiet, but that was to be expected at that time of the day.
Were things unusually quiet?
Just then Mr. Prescott heard a faint cry. In an instant he was at the door.
Somebody was crying, “Fire!”
Who was he? Where was he? Why didn’t he call louder?
He met Billy, who was fairly flying back from the other end of the yard, with his hands at his throat as if he were trying to make the sound come out.