With his pistol in one hand Paddy crept out at the window and slid down the leather rope. A moment later and Ben had followed him, and again they stood listening. From the front came a faint scrambling noise, and Ben grasped his friend’s arm.
“There’s some one climbing the porch,” he whispered. “Some one will also make for the rear windows——”
“And would draw our attention—if we were here,” interrupted the astute Paddy. “And while we were watching, or fighting with them, those from the front would jump in on us.”
In the barn they quickly found their horses, and led them out. To prevent possible pursuit and a shot in the dark, Ben also brought out the horses ridden by Hawkins and Sugden. One of these he saddled for himself, intending to lead his own lamed animal; then they mounted.
As they did so, there came a sudden crash from the upper story of the inn. Looking up they could make out nothing, for the night was thick.
“They have burst in the windows at the back,” said Ben.
And at that instant, as though to prove that he had judged correctly a few moments before, there came a second crash. There was a jingle of glass upon the tavern porch, a shout and the sound of stamping feet. Then a light flared up in the windows through one of which they had just passed.
“Suppose,” said Paddy, always ready for an adventure or a lark, “that we give them some small idea as to where we are.”
Then, actuated by a common impulse, they drew their pistols and sent a crashing volley through the lighted squares of glass above. As the windows splintered before the discharge, a chorus of startled cries arose, and then with shouts of laughter at their parting jest, the two boys clapped spurs to their horses and went galloping away through the rain.