"I guess we're safe herre forr tonight, anyway," said Archer, "but believe me, I think we've got some job on our hands getting out of this country. It's going to be no churrch sociable——"
"We got this far," said Tom, "and by tomorrow night we ought to have a good plan doped out. We got nothing to do all day tomorrow but think about it."
"Gee, I feel sorry for these people," said Archer; "they'rre surre up against it. Makes me feel as if I'd like to have one good whack at Kaiser Bill——"
"Well, don't talk so loud and we'll get a whack at him, all right."
"I'd like to get his old double-jointed moustache for a sooveneerr."
"There you go again," said Tom.
Now that the excitement was over, they realized how tired they were and indeed the strain upon their nerves, added to their bodily fatigue, had brought them almost to the point of exhaustion.
"I'm all in," said Archer wearily.
"All right, go to sleep," said Tom, "and after a while if you don't wake up I'll wake you. One of us has got to stay awake and listen. We can't afford to take any chances."
Archibald Archer needed no urging and in a minute he was sprawled upon the straw, dead to the world. The daylight was glinting cheerily through the interstices of tangled vine over the opening when he awoke with the heedless yawns which he might have given in his own beloved Catskills.