“Just wait a minute, please,” said Harry. “Maybe we can think of some way to get in. All the windows are locked, I suppose?” He stepped out a little and saw that a window above the doorway was open. From its sill a flagpole projected.
“You can never get in there,” said the woman.
“Is that a hammock hook on that tree?” Harry asked.
“Yes.”
“The hammock doesn’t happen to be outdoors anywhere, does it?”
The hammock was found to be behind the house, and Harry carried it to the front doorway. The hammock itself, together with its two ropes, formed a line perhaps twelve feet long, which was easily thrown over the inner end of the pole. In a moment Harry had swung himself up to the flagpole and reaching down from it was carefully brushing off the dust which his feet had left on the flag. The woman watched him with an amused smile.
“That’s one of the first things we scouts have to learn,” Gordon told her,—“respect for the flag.”
Presently Harry opened the front door. The woman was very profuse in her thanks.
“There’s nothing to thank me for,” said Harry. “You know, I used to be a burglar,” he added, laughing.
“But you must come in,” she said. “I’m sure you’re strangers. What can I do to repay you?”