There was no sound of a blow struck. Had there been, Frank could never have contained himself, but regardless of consequences must have rushed around to where the door lay, and burst into the place.
As it was, he backed away and joined his comrades, who, it can easily be understood, were more than curious to know what all this meant.
“Is he in there?” demanded Bluff, close to the ear of his chum.
“Yes, I whispered his name and he answered by saying mine,” came the thrilling reply.
“Good! good! let’s storm the measly old rookery, and hold up those hoboes at the muzzle of our guns. We’ve got the men, and we’ve got the guns!” said Bluff; but his comrade drew him down again ere he could rush forth.
“Wait! Be cool. This is no time to make mistakes. I thought of that, but they’ve shut the cabin door. Perhaps they begin to suspect some of us are around. It may be they even heard Jerry whisper my name. All we want to do is to see that they do him no injury. After a while the sheriff will be along to take care of these jail-birds, all right,” Frank went on.
He said no more, because they once again began to move farther away from the cabin walls. There was a chance, however, that one of the ferocious inmates might come out to investigate the conditions, so Frank did not want to go so far that he could not hold the fellow up and cause a surrender.
“What can we do now?” asked Bluff, as they crouched in a thick jungle, with the cabin lying on their left, and only some twenty paces off.
“Watch and wait. If one of them comes out we’ll make him a prisoner. The door is there, and no one is likely to escape us. Keep ready for a quick move, both of you,” whispered Frank in return.
“Oh! I saw something moving up in that big tree—the one that is half dead,” came from Tom just then.