These I eagerly pounced upon, to discover to my great joy, they were for the most part of iron, painted to resist the weather.
And Robbins, seeing me stagger under the weight of the largest settee I could find, sprang to assist in looting the pile.
By the time we had deposited a few of those articles of garden furniture upon the trap, it must needs be a modern Samson who could lift it from below.
The wind seemed blowing from a favorable quarter so far as our cause was concerned.
Looking back after the lapse of time, when the mad excitement no longer sends the hot blood leaping like molten lava through the veins, and when one can weigh things calmly and dispassionately, I am still of the positive conviction that we made no mistakes, and in accepting chances as they came were wisely guided in our selection.
They had found us out.
Already eager hands were hammering at the double trap, and a dozen voices united in declaring their ideas regarding the why and wherefore of such strange obstinacy on the part of the doors.
I heard the alcalde’s resonant voice—no danger of mistaking it even among two score—the same old stock of favorite Spanish swear words that had done such noble duty in the gardens at the time we had held the roof of the toolhouse.
Where would they attack us, now that this avenue of escape was cut off? Was there another trap which we had failed to notice, or might we expect them to climb over the raised parapet that ran around the azotea?
I was trying to clear my mind of this puzzling question when a shriek from Hildegarde smote upon my hearing, and galvanized me into action.