“Who knows? It may come in handy,” he said.
The hours of that day dragged by with leaden feet. Nothing happened, and that was the hardest thing to bear. All needed sleep; and all were too highly keyed up to obtain it. Clouds had come up with the sun, and by breakfast time a soft persistent rain was falling, driven in sheets by a cold wind from the northeast. Sharp squalls swept across the little square at intervals, almost blotting out the buildings opposite.
“Well, at any rate we’re better off than the other fellows,” said Conacher with a grim chuckle. “We’ve got a roof over our heads.”
After breakfast in spite of Loseis’ protests, he took up his position in the open doorway, with his gun across his knees. His view out of the window was too much narrowed by the thickness of the log walls, he explained.
“But you offer such a fair mark where you are!” complained Loseis.
“Nobody could shoot me here except from behind the house opposite,” said Conacher. “In order to do that he’s got to show himself; and my eyes are as quick as the next man’s.”
The house opposite bothered Conacher. “If they gained possession of it, it would render our position untenable, as they say in the army communiqués,” he said.
It transpired that there were staples in the door, and a padlock lying somewhere within to fasten it. Conacher announced his intention of going across to bar the shutters and lock the door.
And so it was done. Loseis stood at the door with her gun to cover his passage to and fro across the little square.
Loseis and Conacher, half exasperated, half affectionate, disputed endlessly over who should bear the heavier part of the burden.