“Now try and think, Jem,” said Don excitedly. “They must not believe at home that we are such cowards as to run away.”
“No, sir; my Sally mustn’t think that.”
“Then what shall we do?”
“Try to get out, sir, of course.”
“Can you walk?”
“Well, sir, if I can’t, I’ll crawl. What yer going to do?”
“Try the door. Perhaps they have left it unlocked.”
“Not likely,” said Jem. “Wish I’d got a candle. It’s like being a rat in a box trap. It is dark.”
“This way, Jem. Your hand.”
“All right, sir. Frontards: my hands don’t grow out o’ my back.”