“Lie down under the bushes,” hissed William, “so’s they won’t see you. An’ watch what they do.”
Breathless with apprehension the Outlaws crouched under the bushes and watched. They could see the procession come up the road—nearer, nearer. Then—the head-master paused under the sign-post. The Outlaws held their breath. Did he know the lie of the land or would he be deceived? Evidently he didn’t know the lie of the land.
“Here we are,” he called out. “Here’s the sign-post—Ringers’ Hill—up there.”
Slowly the procession passed on up the other hillside.
The Outlaws climbed from out of their bushes. They still looked rather pale. “That was a jolly narrow shave,” said Ginger.
“What we’d better do now,” said William grimly, “is to look for a proper hidin’ place case they find out an’ come back.”
******
So intent had they been on looking down at the side of the hill where the dread procession was wending its way that they had not noticed an enormous man with bushy eyebrows and a generally ferocious aspect who was climbing up the hill from the other side. They did not in fact notice him until he had come up behind them and his gruff voice boomed:
“Well, is this all there is of you?”
The Outlaws turned round with a start.