CHAPTER XVII
HOW JACK TOOK TO HIS HEELS.
In a moment all was still in the kitchen; then, after a brief silence, Peternot began to pray, in a low, solemn tone of voice. Jack, waiting and listening in his corner, was dismayed at this, remembering what Hank had just said of the old man’s prayers.
“That’s no praying!” thought he. “I shall never dare stir, unless he puts in, and makes more noise. Is that the best he can do, I wonder?”
Peternot soon showed that he could do better, his voice rising as he proceeded in a manner that greatly encouraged Jack, who now slipped from his corner, in order to make an observation.
Venturing to peep in at the open door, he saw the squire and his wife and nephew all kneeling before their chairs in the kitchen, with their backs toward him. That he considered a fortunate circumstance: they would not see him if he closed the door.
“But if I shut it,” he reflected, “I shall be in the dark, and I may stumble over a chair! I’ll take the money to the window, and get everything ready first,—see just what I must do, and how to do it; then I’ll shut it.”
He drew the bag from the corner, lifted it by its long, loose end, and carried it across the room, casting one more glance at the kneeling group as he passed the door. Then, having set the bag down under the window, he carefully felt for the fastenings, and found the usual spring in one side of the sash. This he pressed with his thumb, and ascertained that the window would easily come open. All being ready, he stepped back, closed the door softly, without daring to latch it, however, and returned to put his plan into execution.
Pressing the window-spring, he raised the sash, and found himself at once in communication with Hank and Cub on the outside.
“Now, hand it out!” said Hank.