First the little
man bolted back into his house without investigating the whereabouts
of the mysterious voice. After a time he reappeared, and when Bob
again sung out to him, he gingerly approached the stack, staring
at it like mad, in spite of Bob's continuous warnings that he should
not do so. Finally Bob induced him to mount the slight ladder by
which the boys had climbed to their point of vantage.
He was a little man, with a thin red beard, great rings in his ears,
and piercing, shifty eyes. A reddish, diminutive sort of man,
altogether, with a thin little voice that went with his general
appearance. He was literally scared stiff at the idea of the Boches
finding the boys on his premises. That would mean his house burned,
and death for himself, he said. Germans were all about, he said
fearfully, and no one could escape them. He was so frankly nervous
and so devoutly wishful that the boys had never come near him and
his, that Bob, to ease the little man's mind, promised that the boys
would swim the river when dark came and relieve the tension so far
as the stack-owner was concerned.
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