“Good for you, Reuben. How long will it be before old Turpin, as you call him, goes to bed?”
“Jes’ as soon as he gets through writing out what he calls a commitment agin’ you fellers. I reckon it ‘ud go hard with you if you was ter be taken afore the squire. He’s a larruper, the squire is. He give me a month once fer takin’ too much red-eye and lickin’ ther constabule.”
“Well, you watch and wait, Reuben,” said Jack; “we’ll be all ready when you are.”
They heard Reuben’s heavy footsteps retreating, and then followed a period that seemed years in extent. But at its termination Reuben’s cautious voice was heard.
“I’m a-goin’ ter open ther door now. Be you fellers ready?”
“We’ve been ready for the last ten years,” declared Tom, referring to the length of time it appeared that Reuben had been gone.
The lock clicked and the doors swung open. One by one they cautiously filed out and tip-toed across the yard to the place where the Electric Monarch lay bulked in dark shadow. Luckily, it was moonlight, and the craft lay in a sixty-acre field so that there was plenty of opportunity to get a good start.
“Old Turpin didn’t monkey at all with the machine, did he, Reuben?” asked Jack, as they crept along. He was not quite sure how far the farmer’s malevolence might have led him.
“Turpin touch it? Not him. He wanted to, but the old woman told him thet ef he did as like as not he’d get electric--something or other.”
“Likely. Say, be you really going ter Portstown?”
“Certainly. You’re not scared, are you?” said Jack with an inward smile.
“Naw, but I got a funny kind ‘er prickly feelin’ down my back like what I git when straw gits down my neck in threshing time,” admitted Reuben with a nervous giggle.
As silently as possible the escaped captives made for the Electric Monarch. They had almost gained the side of the craft when an unexpected obstacle barred their further progress. The interruption was in the form of a big white bulldog.
“Gosh all hemlock!” gasped Reuben, “I plumb forgot about old Lion.”
“Mean, wa’al he’s a sight meaner than old Turpin hisself, and thet’s a-goin’ some.”
As if to show that his character had been described correctly, Lion gave a low growl and then, without any further warning, sprang straight at Jack. The boy jerked up his foot and caught the animal under the chin. With a yapping bark it tumbled back, but collected itself in an instant for another spring.