“I knew they were out there, Henry, but I didn’t know, could not imagine, why they were there. So that is what they are up to, is it?”
“Yes, an’ ye had better climb out of the winder an’ make your escape.”
Doubtless that was Miller’s first inclination, but he thought a few moments, and then shook his head. “I don’t think that I’ll do that, Henry,” he said. “No, I’ll go out through the front door, as usual, and I don’t believe they’ll dare lay hands on me.”
“Ye don’ know Hank Sprowl ef ye think that,” said the boy. “He’s a bad one, he is.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I’m not going to climb out at the window and try to avoid them. I might as well meet them face to face, and I don’t believe they’ll bother me.”
“They’re cookin’ the tar down here in the gully,” said the boy, his face pale. “An’ I seen Jim Simmons comin’ with a bag of feathers as I left the gully.”
“Oh, well, I’ll not try to avoid them by slipping out of the window, Henry. If they are making their preparations, I might as well meet them and show them that I’m not afraid of them.”
“They’ll handle ye rough, Mister Miller,” said the boy, his face pale. “They’re mighty mean men, them fellers that Hank Sprowl has helpin’ him.”
“I know that, Henry. I’m much obliged for your kindness in coming to warn me. Now you had better go, before they see you, and handle you roughly also.”
“I’ll go. Well, good-by, Mister Miller. I hope they won’t put no tar an’ feathers onto ye.”
“I hardly think they will, Henry. Good-by.”
Then the boy dropped to the ground, and disappeared into the brush at the back of the schoolhouse.
Miller slowly and thoughtfully lowered the window, returned, took a seat at his desk, and sat there, gazing toward the door and evidently doing a lot of thinking. He glanced toward the window once or twice, and then resolutely rose and walked to the door, and opening it, stepped out of doors--to be confronted by Hank Sprowl and the three Tories.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” greeted Miller, pleasantly. “Fine evening, is it not?”
The men exchanged glances, and it was evident that they were somewhat taken aback by the coolness and _sang froid_ of their intended victim.
“Good evenin’,” said Sprowl, gruffly. “Yas, et’s a fine evenin’--a fine evenin’ to put geese-feathers onto rebel birds like ye! Hey, fellers?”