SEARCHING FOR LOST MOUNTAIN
If the three boys attempted to flee from the burning rookery they would of course be discovered and possibly fired upon by that grim watcher.
"Frank, do you reckon he guessed we were squatting up here and means to give us a chance to be roasted?" asked the now thoroughly alarmed Paul, not so capable of meeting trouble coolly, as Frank Allen had always shown himself to be.
"I hardly believe it's quite as bad as that," the other replied. "After firing the shack, he's felt inclined to hold up and watch how his work gets to moving."
"Then you think he may skip out in time to let us drop out of a window or slip down those ricketty stairs, do you?"
"Let's hope so, anyhow, Paul."
Lanky, however, was almost boiling over with poorly suppressed disgust.
"Huh! does that Zeke think we're a bunch of Thanksgiving turkeys that he starts a fire under our feet, which, given a little free scope is going to make this place feel like a Dutch oven? I object to being finished in such a cheap way."
He moved his gun menacingly as he said this.
"Do you mean you want to get a crack at Zeke, and tumble him off his pony out there?" queried Paul.