Then he was aware that flight had stopped, for which he was enormously grateful, and that the entire company was reposing on the ground, regaining breath and listening for sounds from beyond the fence.
“There he is,” whispered Durfee.
There was a rustling amid the shrubbery, and the boys hugged the ground.
“Think he can see us?” asked Dan in Tom’s ear.
“No, he won’t look for us here. He thinks we’ve hit the road, probably. Listen, he’s going back.”
Finding that his prey had escaped, the gardener was retracing his steps toward the gate-lodge. Once they heard him mutter something in very disgusted tones, and Alf chuckled.
“Right you are, old man,” he whispered in the direction of the retreating gardener. “Them’s my sentiments.”
“I vote we move on a bit,” said Roeder. “He might take it into his head to come out and find us here.”
“I guess he’s through for the night,” replied Tom, “but I think we might as well put a little more distance between us and the scene of the crime.”
They got up and made their way as silently as possible down the road toward home. It was not until they had put a good half mile between them and the Broadwood grounds that another halt was called, and they found seats on a bank where they could lean their backs against a fence and rest. The moon was well down in the west by then, and was slipping in and out of a bank of clouds. Chambers looked at his watch and said, “Phew!”