Luke Redman and his boys descended the stairs, and, looking out of the window again, we saw Jake pull off his coat and begin the ascent of the grape-vine.
“What is to be done now?” I asked, with some uneasiness. “It won’t be safe to allow him to come up here.”
“Oh, yes, let him come on,” replied Tom. “We’ll go into the other room, and if he comes in there, we’ll see that he don’t get out again in a hurry. You know we are working for time now, and it makes little difference what we do.”
Tom, as usual, carried his point. We watched Jake until he had ascended almost within reach of us, and then retreating into my prison, crouched one on each side of the opening, and waited for him to make his appearance.
We heard the grape-vine rustling against the side of the cliff, and presently Jake’s head and shoulders darkened the window.
He panted loudly with the violence of his exertions, and after a little delay, during which he was doubtless looking all about the room, he sang out: “Wal, consarn it all!”
“What’s to do?” asked Luke Redman from below.
“Why, they’ve got a plank fast agin’ the door, an’ that’s why we couldn’t open it,” answered Jake. “But thar ain’t nobody here.”
“Go through into the other room,” said his father.
This command was followed by a long pause on Jake’s part, during which he was probably trying to make up his mind whether or not it would be quite safe for him to push his investigations any further, and then we heard him climb slowly down from the window and walk across the creaking floor. He stopped every few feet, and was so long in coming that we began to believe he had concluded to turn back; but presently he placed his hands against the partition and thrust his head slowly and cautiously, inch by inch, into the opening.