It had been a very narrow escape, though; for hardly had the fat boy passed through the opening than it was occupied by the figure of Mrs. Comstock, with both her hands eagerly outstretched, showing that she had anticipated seizing hold of the intruder.
When he landed Billie purposely rolled over several times. He seemed to have a dreadful fear lest the Amazon follow him through the window; just as a pursuing boy might have done.
Having turned over completely several times he managed to sit up so as to take notice of the situation, and get his bearings.
The first thing he saw was the head of Mr. Thomas thrust around the end of the nearby bunk house; and it was strange that Billie just happened to notice how cautiously the pilgrim of the trail was peeping, as though he would not be seen for worlds; there was a look of intense interest on his thin face, too, as if he felt a personal interest in the wild flight of the lad.
Next Billie saw Uncle Fred. He was trying to buckle the recovered belt around his waist, and making a poor job of it, because his fingers were trembling with the excitement; and besides, he felt it necessary
to keep one eye fastened on that window, in which the form of his muscular better-half could be seen outlined.
Billie also noted with solid satisfaction that the woman did not seem to be making any move in his direction. She must have recognized the fact that her expected prey had eluded her grasp, and was satisfied to let things go at that.
But she was waving her fist in his direction, Billie noted; and his heart beat with thanksgiving that he had been so fortunate as to avoid feeling the weight of that hand.
“What do you mean acrawling in through the back windows of this house, you fat cub?” she called out at him.
Perhaps Billie had long ago become so accustomed to having all manner of fun poked at him by his boy friends, on account of his ponderous size that he had ceased to get angry at any sort of nickname.