The sprawling body of the man still lay across the threshold. But as they leaped over it and reached the open, a snarling curse burst from him followed by a volley of threats and execrations.
To these the boys paid no heed. Dashing around the corner of the house they made for the road as fast as the inky darkness and the unfamiliar ground permitted. Once they stumbled into the oozy margin of the stagnant pond. Again Cavanaugh ran against a rusty reaper abandoned in the grass and barked his shin painfully. They were constantly tripping and falling over unseen obstacles, but they never paused and at length they gained the belt of trees and undergrowth which surrounded the clearing.
Here they slowed down to get their breath and listen for sounds of possible pursuit.
“They’d—hardly come—this far,” panted Cavanaugh. “Do you—hear anything?”
“No,” gasped Micky. “Nothing but—the rain and—wind. Whew! I’m winded.”
For a space the silence was unbroken save by the sound of their suppressed panting. Then Cavvy turned and began to push through the undergrowth.
“Let’s be going,” he whispered. “It’ll take a while to find the road, I’m thinking.”
McBride followed. “You’re a pippin, old man, to get me out of that mess,” he said presently.
“That’s all right,” shrugged Cavvy. “How did you ever come to get into it?”
“Because I was a nut, I guess,” answered McBride in an apologetic tone. “All the same, he showed up so suddenly and jumped on me so quick, I honestly didn’t have a chance to do a thing—not even to let out a yell.”