“Ef dey come back, it’s ours fer keepin’ mum agin. We cain’t git away, yuh know, wid my foot lame. An’ dey’ll never tink of lookin’ behin’ dis wall fer us ef we kin shet up an’ stan’ it.”
“No, but we woulden’ have t’ought of it ourself ef it hadn’t ben fer dat crookit chimbly. It war so easy to climb dat an’ slide down here behin’ de wall,” chuckled the other one.
Mr. Gilroy gently touched the scouts to keep silence, and all four listened with nerves a-tension.
“Wisht we onny hed a gun—den we coul’ put up a fight ef any one gits on to dis hidin’ place,” said one of the voices, after a silence that had followed another shrill whistle in the woods.
“Dem cops is havin’ fun widda whistle. But dey kin whistle fer all we care.” A chuckle expressed the satisfaction the man felt.
Then an answering signal whistled close to the hut, and one of the prisoners said to his pal: “Gee! Dey’s closer’n I t’ought. Keep mum, now, en don’t groan enny when dey’s in hearin’.”
Another whistle from the trail echoed to the hut, and Mr. Gilroy got up and ran out. He met two of the returning policemen just outside, and drew them away so that he could tell them of the discovery without being overheard by the convicts; for he had learned how the slightest sound echoed in the forest silences.
The men quickly planned how they could catch the convicts, but how should they force them out from behind the wall of the hut?
“We’ll have to chop down the log wall,” said one.
“It will take all night and before we get it down our men may have crept out and escaped,” said the other.