Part 9 (1/2)

”Yell 'Help!' you idiot!”

”Oh, all right.” They raised their voices together in a loud appealing shout. Then they listened. Not a sound answered them.

”Once more,” said Clint. Again they shouted and again they listened.

Deep silence, broken only by the chirping of crickets.

”No good, I guess,” said Clint despondently.

”n.o.body home,” murmured Amy. ”Now what? I'll tell you frankly, as man to man, that I can't go on walking all night, Clint. I'm dog-tired and my left leg's got a cramp in it and I'm weak with hunger. Let's find a cosy corner somewhere and go to sleep.”

”I reckon we'll have to. I'm about all in, too. We'd better find a place where there's more shelter than there is here, though. Gee, but we are certainly a fine pair of idiots!”

”We are indeed!” a.s.sented Amy with enthusiasm. ”I suppose that the time will come, perhaps twenty or thirty years from now, when we'll be able to look back on this night's jolly adventures and appreciate all the fun we're having, but just now--” Amy's voice trailed off into silence.

”Jolly adventures!” grunted Clint. ”Don't talk rot!”

Five minutes later they stopped. That is, Clint stopped and Amy ran into him with a grunt.

”I suppose you haven't got a match, have you?” asked Clint.

”Right-o! You're a fine little supposer,” chattered Amy.

”There's something here and I want to see what it is,” said Clint. As he spoke he moved forward a step or two and felt around in the darkness.

”It feels like a fence,” he muttered, ”a board fence. No, it isn't, it's a house! Here's a window.”

”A hole, I'd call it,” said Amy. ”Let's find the door.”

They moved to the right, following the building, and promptly collided with a tree. They had to go around that, since there was no room to squeeze past it. Then the hut, for it was evidently no more, presented a doorway, with a door half-open on broken hinges. They hesitated a moment.

”Wonder what's inside,” said Clint in a low voice.

”Spooks,” suggested Amy, none too bravely.

”Shut up! Would you go in?”

”Sure, I would. Come on.”

Very cautiously they edged past the crazy door, their hands stretched warily ahead. There was a sudden scurrying sound from the darkness and they jumped back and held their breaths.

”P-probably a rat,” whispered Amy.

”Or a squirrel,” said Clint. They listened. All was silent again. A damp and musty odour pervaded the place. Under their feet the floor boards had rotted and as they made a cautious circuit of the interior they trod as often on soil as on wood. The hut was apparently empty of everything save a section of rusted stovepipe, dangling from a hole in the roof, some damp rags and paper in a corner and a broken box. Clint discovered the box by falling over it with a noise that sent Amy a foot off the ground. When all was said the advantages presented by the hut were few.

It did protect them from the little chill breeze that stirred and it put a roof over their heads, although, as Clint said, if it rained before morning they'd probably find the roof of little account. On the other hand, it was damper than the outdoors and the mustiness was far from fragrant. They decided, however, to take up their quarters there until morning. Looking for the road was evidently quite useless, and, anyway, they were much too tired to tramp any longer. They found a place away from door and window where some of the floor-boards still survived and sank down with their backs to the wall. Amy heaved a great sigh of relief.

”Gee,” he muttered, ”this is fine!”

”Pull the blanket up,” murmured Clint with a pathetic effort at humour.

Amy chuckled weakly.