"Hello—believe them chaps is a-comin' out now," observed Sladder. "Ain't that Piper a-talkin' loud?"
"Guess you're right, Tim," chuckled Musgrove, listening intently. "Sounds like a scrap, don't it?"
"Wouldn't worry me none, if it was. But don't let 'em see you, Billy."
"This here huckleberry is 'most done an' ready ter roll. Git back a bit, Tim. I can see 'em hangin' around the door. Say—there's Scummers a-callin' us."
"Let 'im call. We ain't got no time ter gab. Important business on hand." Tim Sladder chuckled and peered cautiously over the edge of the declivity. An exclamation of impatience escaped him, as he saw several dusky figures wending their way toward the base of the hill. "By jingo, they must have heard us," he exclaimed. "Believe they're a-comin' up, too."
Consternation seemed to seize Musgrove. "An' we jest ready ter start the ball a-rollin'," he growled. "Quick, Tim—if they once gits up, they'll stop us, maybe. Shove the punk'n over, an' scoot."
The boys jumped toward the huge snowball. With an effort that taxed all their strength, they managed to roll it toward a mass of underbrush, then the two disappeared amidst the trees.
The sound of voices from below grew louder, and Musgrove, with the greatest caution, presently moved forward to a place where he could see over the edge of the hill.
"What are they a-doin'?" questioned Tim, eagerly.
"Tryin' ter mind our business, fur sure—the hull crowd is a-comin' up."