“They’re all comin’!” gasped William, “they’re comin’ to take us by force. They—they’re goin’ to surround the hill and take us by force.”
“Crumbs!” said Ginger again. “Crumbs!”
“What’ll we do?” gasped Douglas.
They looked at William and into William’s freckled face came a set look of purpose.
BREATHLESS WITH APPREHENSION THE OUTLAWS CROUCHED
UNDER THE BUSHES AND WATCHED. THEY COULD
SEE THE PROCESSION COME UP THE ROAD—NEARER,
NEARER.
“Well, we’ve gotter do something,” he said. He scowled ferociously, then a light flashed over his face. “I know what we’ll do. Smith must jus’ simply have told ’em ‘Ringers’ Hill.’ That’s what we told him, ‘Ringers’ Hill.’ Well, you remember the sign post thing at the bottom of the hill with ‘Ringers’ Hill’ on it?”
Yes, they remembered it—a wobbly, decrepit affair at the bottom of the hill.
William’s face was now fairly gleaming with his idea.
“Well,” he said, “you remember it was all loose in its hole? I bet if we pushed hard we could push it right round so’s the ‘Ringers’ Hill’ pointed right on up the other hill. An’ I bet they don’ know this part ’cause they don’t live here an’ they never come here so I bet—well, let’s try anyway, an’ we’d better be jolly quick.”