The poor turkeys struggled and "gobbled" a good deal in their narrow quarters, but all to no purpose; and full of terror, no doubt, at their strange treatment, were hurried out of the shed into the lane, and thence through dark and silent ways to the rear of the squire’s building. Here the conspirators paused for breath and consultation.
"Now, fellows," whispered Harold Kent, "we needn’t all go inside, you know. I’ll take the lantern, while the three biggest of you carry the gobblers, and the rest will stay here until we come back."
Somewhat reluctantly this was assented to, for all wanted to share the danger as well as the fun; and then Harold, lantern in hand, followed by Dick Wilding, Sam Shaw, and Frank Cushing, each bending beneath a bag of struggling, "gobbling" turkey, climbed in through the low window, crept softly in stocking feet along the narrow hall and up the creaking stairs; while their companions, with hearts beating like trip-hammers, shrank close together in the darkest corner outside and anxiously awaited their return.
It was no easy task that the four boys had in hand. True enough that the building was uninhabited at night, but there were people living next door, and any unusual noise could hardly fail to be heard through those thin wooden walls; while, late as the hour was, the sound of footsteps on the plank side-walks would ever and anon send a chill of terror through the anxious watchers below.
Moreover, to carry three big turkeys up a flight of stairs and deposit them in an empty room without filling the whole place with their noise was the hardest part of all. Nevertheless they succeeded admirably.
Five minutes after they disappeared they rejoined their companions, trembling but triumphant, having left their captives in good order and condition in the front room, just across the room from Squire Hardgrit’s office, where they would be certain to make themselves seen and heard in the morning.
This done, the boys scattered to their homes, creeping back noiselessly to their beds, in which, being thoroughly tired out, they slept as soundly until morning as if they had not been up to any mischief whatever.
The great gathering-place of the Westville boys was the blacksmith’s forge, which stood across the road from Mrs. Grundy’s, and thither the conspirators came one by one the following morning in expectation of seeing the fun.