And apparently it was contented to continue doing that, for the open doorway turned from a misty-gray oblong to a black, and still the downpour continued. There wasn’t a watch among them, and so they had no way of telling time.
“Well,” said Bob, filling the stove up again, “we’ve got a dry place to sleep, and that’s something. I vote we go to bed as soon as we can sleep, and get an early start. Beach Neck can’t be far off, and we can make up for supper at the breakfast table.”
“Sounds good to me,” answered Dan. “But I’m not the least bit sleepy; only hungry.”
“Same here,” murmured Tom wistfully. He was sitting on the floor as near to the stove as he could get without scorching, and Barry was curled up in his lap. “If you and I had a dog biscuit, Barry, we could do a dandy trick with it, couldn’t we?”
But Barry only wagged his stump of tail drowsily.
“He’s the only philosophic one among us,” said Nelson. “He didn’t have a tenth as much dinner as we did, and look at him! Not a whimper!”
Whereupon Barry suddenly sat up, pricked his ears, and growled. Bob and Tom began to laugh, but Dan held up his hand.
“Wait a minute!” he whispered. “Barry hears something.”
The dog slipped stealthily from Tom’s lap and moved toward the door, sniffing and growling. They listened and watched. Then simultaneously Barry broke into fierce barking, and a face appeared in the dark frame of the doorway.