"It's FIRE!" said Thomas hoarsely, plucking him by the arm again. "We must 'a' left somethin' smoulderin' in the fire-place"—
"Nonsense," said the farmer reassuringly. Nevertheless he gave Jack another cut that made him jounce at a fearful rate up to the back veranda.
Thomas leaped out and sped up the steps. Farmer Bassett tarried only long enough to fasten Jack to the hitching-post, throw his blanket over him, and give one pat on his head, then followed.
"Boys!" screamed Thomas, racing up and down the veranda, and shaking the doors, "are you in there?"
But only the branches of the trees creaked in the cold wind for answer. Thomas stamped in very fury.
"See here," said the old farmer, down on the ground and pointing up, "look at their heads. They're all safe an' sound, an' not half as cold as you an' I."
With that he sent out such a halloo that Thomas on the veranda clapped his hands to his ears. It had the effect desired, for at least two of the windows in the gable end of the cottage were thrown up, and as many boys' heads as could possibly be accommodated, were thrust out.
"Halloo, Thomas, halloo," called one voice in derision, "don't you wish you were here too?"
"You're a nice one," said Master Wingate, "and won't you catch it, though, when you get home. You'll be place-hunting as soon as you can say 'Jack Robinson'"—
"See here, you young scamp," shouted the old farmer, "it will be for your interest to end that sort of talk, now I tell you. You just step down lively an' open one of these doors. We've cooled our heels enough comin' to look for you an' don't propose to stand here any longer. Hurry up, now."