Part 26 (1/2)

But I knew that I was not heavy enough to hold it down. Would he think of the roof? If he did, and if he came up the ladder, of course he would find the scuttle unlocked, and he would know that I was on the roof. The thing to do was to wait there until he raised the scuttle and then bat him over the head. But unfortunately, I had nothing to bat him with.

Sure enough, here he came up the ladder! I retreated down the slope of the roof,--it was a ticklish job, but again my rubber- soled shoes stood me in good stead--and crawled around to the other side of the broad chimney, and hid behind it.

I had not been there more than a second before he raised the scuttle. I could hear him puffing. Once more my heart began to thump and my throat to contract. He stepped out upon the roof and I suppose he decided immediately that I was behind one of the chimneys. At any rate he started down the roof in my direction.

The instant that he did so he slipped and came down on the roof with a crash. Several s.h.i.+ngles must have come out, and he clawed and sc.r.a.ped at a great rate. I thought--and hoped--that he was going to slide right off the roof, but he managed to save himself.

His slide was checked somehow, and he commenced to crawl back toward the scuttle. As he did so he uttered a string of curses that would have horrified his friends in Lanesport very much.

I heard him descend the ladder. It struck me that he was going down to the side of the house, to look up to the roof and see if I were really behind the chimney. I hurried out from my hiding-place and crawled on my hands and knees up the slope of the roof. But when I reached the scuttle I found it closed and locked. I could not raise it. He had caught me now,--I might stay on that roof forever, for all that I could do.

Unless--and I already had my jack-knife out--unless I could cut through the scuttle and get at the hasp. The wood was old, frail, and half rotten,--in three minutes I had the point of the blade through. In five, I had cut a hole large enough to admit two fingers. I knew that I was safe from being seen,--anyone on that part of the roof would not be visible from the ground near the house. After cutting for a little while longer I put enough of my hand through the hole to unfasten the hasp. Then I raised the scuttle, with the pleasant sensation that this was quite in line with our escape from the jail at Bailey's Harbor. Even better than that,--I was alone here, and cutting my way out,--or rather down, with a jack-knife. It gave me a thrill like some of the adventures in ”The Rifle Rangers,” and various other story-books.

No more of the roof, no more of the attic for me! I was tired of being chased about like an animal in a cage,--I was going to get down stairs and outdoors if I possibly could. I preferred to take a chance with Mr. Snider in the open.

So I went down the ladder very cautiously and listened in the attic. Then came the attic stairs, at the foot of which there was a door to open. I got it open, and stepped into the pa.s.sage-way. I could hear nothing. Mr. Snider thought I was safely locked up there on the roof. Little by little and pausing for two or three minutes on each landing, I crept quietly down stairs.

When I reached the lower hall I was in doubt whether to go out the front or the back door. But the back door was open, and so I chose that. I walked quietly out, crossed the back yard, and nearly ran into Mr. Snider's arms, as he came out of the woodshed with an ugly looking club in his hand!

He was more surprised than I, and that gave me the start I needed.

He was after me in a second, but I ran around the corner of the house and headed for the front yard. Coming through the driveway was the Professor! I suppose that he had just come up from his hiding-place beneath the wharf, for his arms were full of his boxes. As soon as I saw him I turned sharply to the right, ran through the side-yard by the speakers' stand, and climbed a rail fence on the far side of the garden.

Then I ran down a little slope toward a clump of trees. As I did so, I looked back and saw Mr. Snider crawling through the fence.

The trees stood on a little hummock,--there were about a dozen of them, with some undergrowth. I ran through this, and came out on a rough ledge of rocks, which ended in a little beach. I had come to the sh.o.r.e on the other side of the island. Here was a small bay, not more than a hundred yards in width.

Sailing slowly out of this bay was a cat-boat, with a skull and cross-bones pirate-flag at the mast-head. It was the ”Hoppergra.s.s”!

CHAPTER XI

PIRATES IN TROUBLE

”Hi! Captain Bannister!” I shouted, ”hi!”

Someone--not the Captain, but a boy in a blue s.h.i.+rt--looked up from the wheel. Then I heard Mr. Snider come cras.h.i.+ng and floundering through the underbrush, so I waded into the water until I was waist-deep and then struck out to swim. Before I had made a dozen strokes Mr. Snider emerged, and ran down to the water's edge.

But I had no idea he would follow me now. He didn't look like a person who could swim,--nor even like one who enjoyed cold water much. I glanced back at him over my shoulder,--he was simply standing there, gazing after me, and rubbing his hands together excitedly, clasping and unclasping them.

”Captain Bannister!” I called out again, ”the Hoppergra.s.s! Wait!”

The boy who was steering put the helm over a trifle, altering the course of the boat a little more in my direction. Another boy came up from below, and stood there staring at me. In three minutes I was alongside, and reaching out for the tender.

”Let me come aboard!” I gasped,--”that man--”

But I was too much winded to say anything more. With some difficulty--for I had been swimming harder than was necessary--I crawled into the tender, and sat down to get my breath. As I sat there, one of the boys said:

”Why, that's Mr. Snider!”

Then he pulled the tender alongside, and I stepped on board the ”Hoppergra.s.s.”