Gravely he led the way down-stairs and climbed abstractedly through the little window. Something was evidently on his mind.
“The last time I saw that pirate,” he began.
The Lieutenant tripped, and sat down abruptly.
“The—the last time you saw him?” he stammered.
“That’s what I said,” responded the Head Captain shortly. “The last time I saw him I didn’t s’pose I’d have to bury him. He’d just got a lot of treasure and stuff and—Sst! Sst! For your lives!”
They scuttled off desperately. The ground was new to them, and had it not been for providential garbage barrels and outhouses, they could hardly have hoped to conceal themselves from the man who was raking up the yard. To avoid him they dashed straight through his barn, and rounded a summer-house without perceiving a small tea-party going on there, till they ran through it, to their own sick terror, and the abject amazement of the tea-party. They tore through a hedge, panted a doubtful moment in a woodhouse, then took up their headlong flight with the vague, straining pace of crowded dreams. On, on, on. Slip behind that lilac clump—wait! Sst! Sst! Then get along! Oh, hurry, hurry! Pick up your sash! Whose is this yard? Never mind! hurry!
“Then took up their headlong flight.”
They dropped exhausted under their own pear tree.
“My, but that was a close shave! I thought they’d got us sure!” breathed the Head Captain.