As Bob spoke, he opened one of the meal bags and drew from it the iron strap, which Godfrey Evans had used in prying open the door of the smoke-house two nights before. Lester struck a match on his coat sleeve, and when it blazed up, so that Bob could see how to work, he placed the strap between the hasp and the door, and exerted all his strength in the effort to draw out the staple with which it was confined. But that staple was put there to stay. It was made by the plantation blacksmith under Don's personal supervision, and as it was long enough to be clinched on the inside of the door, Bob made no progress whatever in his efforts to force an entrance.
“We can do nothing here,” said he, after he had pulled and pushed until the inside of his hands seemed to be on fire. “We must try the window.”
“But that is so high you can't reach it,” said Lester.
“Not from the ground, I know. You will have to hold me up.”
Descending from the porch with noiseless footsteps, the boys passed around to the rear of the cabin, and when Lester had stationed himself under the window, Bob quickly mounted to his shoulders. He examined the window as well as he could in the dark, and began to grow discouraged. It was boarded up with two-inch planks, and they were held in their places by the largest spikes Don could find at Mr. Jones's store. Bob pushed his lever under one of the planks, but when he laid out his strength upon it, Lester rocked about in so alarming a manner, that Bob lost his balance, and to save himself from falling, jumped to the ground.
“We might as well go home,” said he, rubbing his elbow, which, owing to Lester's unsteadiness, he had scratched pretty severely on the rough planks. “If we only had a bundle of straw we'd start a bonfire.”
“It's a pity to go home and leave all these birds here,” replied Lester. “Let's get up on the roof and tear off some of the shingles. We can climb up by those posts that support the roof of the porch.”
“O, it is easy enough to get up there, but what good will it do to tear off the shingles? We couldn't get the birds out unless one of us went down after them, and it wouldn't be me, I tell you!”
“We'll not try to get the birds at all. We'll leave the holes open so that they can escape. Wouldn't that be better than allowing them to stay here for Dave Evans to make money out of?”
“I should say it would,” exclaimed Bob, who always grew angry whenever anything was said about David's chances of making money. “But we'll first make one more effort to get the birds ourselves. Hold me up again and don't wobble about as you did before.”