Then came a slight creaking sound—the sound of a pressure against the door, which yielded slightly, but was prevented by the heavy bed from being opened at all. It was an unmistakable sound. They were trying to open the door. They were also trying to do it as noiselessly as possible. Evidently they thought that their victims were all asleep, and they wished to come in noiselessly, so as to accomplish their fearful errand.
For a moment it seemed to Bob as though the bed was being pushed back. The thought gave him anguish inexpressible, but he soon found that it was not so. Then he expected a savage push at the door from the baffled brigands. He thought that they would drop all attempts at secrecy, and begin an open attack.
But they did not do so.
There were whispers outside the door. Evidently they were deliberating. They were unwilling, as yet, to resort to noisy violence. They wished to effect their full purpose in secret and in silence. Such were Bob's thoughts, which thoughts were strengthened as he heard them slowly move away, and descend the stairs, with the same carefulness, and the same shuffling sound, with which they had ascended.
"They are going to try the windows," thought Bob.
And now as this thought came to him, he could restrain himself no longer. It was no time for sleep. He determined to rouse the others.
He laid his hand on Frank's forehead, and shook his bead. Then, bending down dose to him, he hissed in his ear,—
"Wake! wake! Brigands! Don't speak! don't speak! silence!"
Frank was a light sleeper, and a quick-witted lad, who always retained his presence of mind. At Bob's cry he became wide awake, and without a single word sat up in bed and listened. All was still.
"What's the matter?" he asked.