"Ten altogether—six men an' boys, an' four women," was the reply. "I know, 'cause I counted 'em."
"Of course, the women will stay in the house," continued the governor, addressing himself to Friday; "an' when they hear you cuttin' at the door, they'll be sartin to come out an' holler at you; but that needn't scare you. Now, then, how shall we awaken the folks?"
The chief had scarcely propounded this question, when it was answered in way he had not expected. A window above him was thrown open, a head appeared, and a voice called out, "Well, I swan!"
The governor and his man did not wait to hear what the farmer had to say next. The enemy were aroused, and an opportunity was given them to try the plan Xury had suggested. Friday, who well understood the part he was expected to perform, sprang around the house out of sight; while Sam started across the field toward the beach.
"Stop there, you young rascal!" shouted the man in the window. "Josh! Bill! Wake up, an' get out there! Those robbers have come back again!"
The window came down with a crush, and Friday, who had by this time concealed himself behind a corn-crib, a short distance from the cellar door, heard a great commotion in the house. Lights flashed from the windows, men and women run about calling to each other, and presently the door opened and Josh and Bill appeared.
"There they are!" exclaimed one discovering Sam, who was by this time well on his way across the field; "hurry up there, boys. He's got a long start, and is running like a scared turkey."
These last words were addressed to the men in the house, who came out one after another, some without their hats, some bare-footed, others pulling on their coats as they ran, and all following after Bill and Josh, who were flying across the field in hot pursuit of the governor. Friday, from his hiding-place, counted them as they sprang down the steps, and when the sixth man had left the house, and was out of sight in the darkness, he straightened up and prepared for action. He listened a moment to the shrill, excited voices of the women, and clutching his ax with a firm hold, he came out from behind the corn-crib and ran toward the house. A few rapid steps brought him to the cellar door, which he attacked furiously. The first blow he struck echoed through the cellar like a peal of thunder, alarming the women up stairs; and the second brought them to the porch, where they stood watching Friday's operations in speechless amazement. The Crusoe man, intent on releasing his companions, gave no heed to what was going on around him, until a chorus of angry screams arose from the porch; then he started and trembled a little, but was not frightened from his work. He redoubled his efforts, the door began to bend and groan, and was finally forced from its fastenings, and Tom and his mate sprang out. Then the screams arose in greater volume than before, and reached the ears of the farmer and his men, who abandoned the pursuit of the governor, and returned to the house with all possible speed. But they were too late; for, long before they arrived, Tom and his companions had made good their escape. The shattered door, and the ax lying where Friday had thrown it after effecting the release of the prisoners, were all that were left to remind the farmer of the Crusoe band.