Bob moved to the door and pushed it open. A gust of rain dashed in and drenched the floor, sending the smoke whirling about the room. Outside a veritable wall of water showed in the glimmering light. The thief shivered, cast a backward glance at the stove, and plunged out into the darkness and the storm. Bob stood motionless for an instant. Then,
“Oh, thunder!” he growled, and sprang after the man. In a second he was back, pushing the thief before him. He looked at the others apologetically. “I can’t help it, fellows,” he said. “We can’t send even a dog out into a storm like that.” He turned to the man. “If we let you sleep here, will you behave yourself?” he demanded.
The thief turned on him almost savagely.
“Ain’t I told yer I acts white to my friends?” he cried with an oath. “Gimme a corner an’ I won’t trouble no one.”
Bob glanced at the others questioningly. They nodded one after another. Nelson stooped and busied himself putting fresh wood into the stove. The thief scraped some rubbish together in a corner of the room, and laid himself down upon it. The boys gathered around the fire and talked together in low voices for a while. Then they laid themselves down on the bare floor, and with their ponchos over them went to sleep, Barry nestling up to Dan with a final good-night growl at the silent form in the corner.
[CHAPTER XIX]
TELLS OF A VOYAGE AND A SHIPWRECK
They awoke shortly before seven, aching and chilled and stiff, to find the sun pouring in through the windows of the hut.
“He’s gone,” said Bob.