For fully a minute the robber crew stood listening for an answer. At the end of that time Luke Redman’s patience was all exhausted, and, without more ado, he lifted the ax, and the door began to shake and bend under the heavy blows that were showered upon it.
It was time to speak now, and Tom was wide awake.
“Hold on out there!” he shouted.
“Ah ha!” exclaimed Luke, “you’ve found your tongue at last, have you? You heern what I said, I reckon. What do you think about it?”
“I don’t think any thing,” replied Tom, coolly, “but I know something. If you strike that door again with that ax, I’ll send a charge of buckshot among you. What do you think of that?”
These words were spoken in a most determined tone, and we knew by the sudden silence which followed them that they had not been without their effect upon the outlaw and his gang.
Tom held himself in readiness to carry out his threat, and I am sure he would have done it, had it been necessary; but fortunately it was not. Luke Redman stood as much in fear of buckshot as we did of his hounds. He said a few words in a whisper to his boys, and then walked slowly down the stairs and out of the house, where he stood foaming with rage, and swinging his ax about in a way that made all his companions keep at a respectful distance.
Tom thrust his gun out of the window, and pushed the branches of the grape-vine aside, so that Luke could see him.
“I wish I had my shootin’-iron in my hands,” said Luke Redman, glaring up at us with a most fiendish expression of countenance. “I’d put a load into you as soon as I’d look at you.”
“Oh, you’re joking!” replied Tom.