“He is clean, clear to the top,” declared one of his followers, “I can just see his head between the branches. P’raps he don’t hear you, for he don’t move.”
“I’ll send a chunk of lead up there if he don’t stir pretty soon,” growled Boggs. “Reckon that’ll fetch him.”
The night seemed unusually quiet, and not a sound followed his words.
Curt had gained the house and stood within its walls.
“Look here, you infernal Yank!” called out Boggs louder than before, “if you don’t come down we’ll riddle you with bullets! We have waited long enough and its time for you to know that your game is up!”
Of course he received no reply and he stamped the ground madly, regardless of the danger he was courting, forgetting that he might have enemies within hearing.
“He don’t move,” whispered the soldier. “Shall I fire at him?”
“Curses upon our stupidity, no. It would wake up the whole army of Yanks. Let me speak to the dog once more!”
Again he called out to the scout with, as might be expected, no better result.
“One of you must go up there,” said Lieutenant Boggs. “Who will do it?”