The boys heard the two tramps go through the door, and felt the rush of cold air when the door was left open. Until this time they had not realized it was cold.
“Can’t we scale this wall and get out?” Frank whispered to his chums.
As quickly as the thought was expressed, two of the boys stooped and threw Frank on their shoulders, thinking they might toss him to the top of the hold before these men came back. The plan, instantly crystallizing into action, was to have a rifle on them before they could defend themselves.
It was too late. Just as Frank’s arm went up to reach for the ground, a gun butt came down with a sharp crack across his hand, and with a little cry of pain, Frank dropped again into the hole.
“Stay down there quietlike,” snapped Snadder. “Don’t try any funny tricks. Blinky,” he called to his partner, “you build that fire and I’ll watch these slippery kids.”
It had been a chance worth taking, and nothing was left but to figure on some other way of getting out.
Night had evidently fallen, for no light came through the opening from above, and after a short while the prisoners noticed the yellow light of fire above their heads, indicating that Blinky had made good as a builder of a campfire.
The two tramps changed watch all night, one warming while the other watched. Down in the hole, partially protected from the down rush of the wind, the boys huddled close together, keeping each other warm, snatching bits of sleep as well as they could in their uncomfortable positions.
Finally morning came, and a chill one it was. They saw the first faint rays of light as the sun came over the tops of the mountains to light up the valley in which this shack was located.
“Well, boys,” called Snadder, “wake yet? Have a good night’s rest? We’re going to get a little breakfast ready now. It won’t amount to much without coffee, but the boss will be along in a little while.”