He began to enjoy the prospect. He
gathered some eggs from the feed boxes, carrying them in his hat,
and breaking the lock of the kitchen door he and his outfit looted
the closet there and had an early supper, being careful to
extinguish the fire afterwards.
Not until dusk was falling did he post his men, three outside among
the outbuildings, one as a sentry near the woods, and two in the
barn itself. He himself took up his station inside the barn door,
sitting on the floor with his gun across his knees. Looking out
from there, he saw the sharp flash of a hastily extinguished match,
and snarled with anger. He had forbidden smoking.
"I've got to go out," he said cautiously. "Don't you fools shoot
me when I come back."
He slipped out into what was by that time complete blackness.
Some five minutes later he came back, still noiselessly, and treading
like a cat. He could only locate the barn door by feeling for it,
and above the light scraping of his fingers he could hear, inside,
cautious footsteps over the board floor. He scowled again. Damn
this country quiet, anyhow! But he had found the doorway, and was
feeling his way through when he found himself caught and violently
thrown.
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