They turned into the empty courtyard, darted noiselessly for the fire stairs and crouched in the shadows, their hearts drumming loudly and the blood roaring in their ears like the noise of the distant subways.
It was some time before they felt calm enough to take stock of their position. The fire stair was, as Peggy had told the boys, a perfect place to hide. Most of it mounted out of sight in an airshaft on the side of the building opposite the entrance alley. Only the last six steps came out into the court, having turned the corner of the building at a landing. The space below the landing made a cramped little lean-to, protected by the steps themselves on one side and by a latticework of metal on the other. The space was open only in the rear, from which direction nobody could approach them.
The steps themselves were steel, and the risers between the steps were of the same metal grillwork as that on the side. It was almost impossible for anyone to see into the shadowed cubbyhole behind the grill, but quite an easy matter for the girls to see out.
"I think we're safe enough here," Peggy whispered, tactfully restraining herself from adding, "as long as no rats come around."
"It seems safe," Amy agreed, "but I wouldn't exactly call it comfortable. It's too low to stand in, and I hate the thought of sitting down on the dirt that's collected here. There's a box out there in the courtyard. Why don't we bring it in to sit on?"
"Better not," Peggy answered. "Someone may remember having seen it there, and if it's missing, it might give them the idea that somebody's been here. And we don't want anyone to get ideas like that."
Amy agreed reluctantly with the sense of Peggy's argument, and shifted her position. "No wonder Pip was so tired," she whispered. "A whole twelve hours of crouching like this must be a terrible thing to go through! We've only been here for about fifteen minutes, and I'm beginning to get pins and needles already."
The next hour and a half, spent mostly in silence, and in trying to get used to the cramped position beneath the stairs, passed by with terrible slowness. Every so often, the roar of a truck would be heard in the street, and the girls would grow tense, waiting for it to turn into the alley. But it always went by, leaving an even deeper silence behind it.