“Hey, hey—get a grip on yourself. Snap out of it and let me think.”
“Maybe the door isn’t locked, after all—” Osceola snatched at this desperate thought—
“Try it if you like. But I heard that old wretch or one of his men slam the bolt and so did you.”
Osceola ran to the door and tried the handle, but without success. Then he backed off and flung the full force of his weight against it. The sturdy oak hardly creaked.
“Don’t let the thought of Deb make you lose your nerve, man,” said Bill, still looking out of the window.
Osceola’s face grew grim. He walked back to Bill and grasped his hand. “Thanks, old pal. And goodbye. I’m going to Deborah now. At least, we can die together!”
Chapter IX
AT A DEAD END
“Here—just a minute—” cried Bill, “yes, by Jove! I believe we can do it!”
Osceola turned back. “Not that chimney you’re staring at! It’s got funnels at the top. We—”
“No—not the chimney, guy! The lightning rod! I forgot these oldtime houses had them. Quick now, with Deborah! I’ll go first. You pass her out to me.”