CHAPTER VII

BUT WE DECIDE TO GO


Mr. Daddles stood on a ledge of the building a moment, and quietly
pulled down the window.

"It wasn't locked," he muttered, "so there'll be nothing to show
how we got out."

We were in a little yard at the rear of the jail. There was a
large empty building,--a barn, or a boat-builder's work-shop, on
the next lot. It cast a deep shadow over one side of the yard, and
we kept in this shadow, as we stole toward the fence. A short
alley ran down the hill on the other side of this fence. In a
moment or two we were tip-toeing through the alley. It seemed to
me that I had been going on tip-toe for hours,--I wondered if I
would forget how to walk in the usual way.

Everything was quiet; we met no one, and heard nothing. Turning up
the street we kept on, silently, until we reached the open space
near the water. There was the tent, white and still in the
moonlight. We looked in at the flap of the tent,--two dim forms
lay wrapped in blankets, breathing heavily, and both sound asleep.