"Say, if he has as poor luck opening doors as some people I know, he never would get in here without arousing the dead; get that, Thad?"
"Well, you never can tell about doors. Just when you want them to open smart like, they won't budge. Then, when you'd like the pesky old thing to hang fire she slides open just like the track was greased with mutton tallow. I'm one of the kind that likes to make sure!"
"Oh! I reckon you are right. Anyhow, we used to write in school that it's no use locking the stable door after the horse is stolen. But looky here, do you know it's turning-in time—ten o'clock as near as I can tell. Me for the bunk, right quick!"
Thad sat there for some little time after his chum had crawled into his comfortable, if cramped nest.
Finally he, too, began to get ready to retire. On these cold nights the boys only partly undressed. They did not have any too many blankets or comfortables, and it did get mighty dreary in the cabin after the fire went out, with the wind sweeping over that wide stretch of flowing water that came out of the wintry North.
But before Thad put out the lantern, he placed it just where he could lay his hand on it at a second's notice and also made sure to have matches handy.
Nor was that all. He quietly picked up the old Marlin, and deposited it alongside his bunk.
Then came darkness, as he blew out the light. Thad heard a sound not unlike a chuckle from the opposite bunk; but although he imagined his comrade was laughing at all his preparations for trouble, the fact did not give him much concern.
When his mind was made up nothing could turn Thad aside.
No doubt he woke up at regular intervals during that night, and rising to his elbow listened eagerly to the various sounds coming from without.