CHAPTER XXXOf course I meant what I said, and then I stepped to the window and shouted: “Hey, boys! Shorty! Rusty!”
Because my voice was sure to go booming out to the bunkhouse and turn out the lot of them. I roused other attention than that, too. Two or three rifles began to crack, and a whir of lead smashed every bit of glass out of that window and sent it clinking to the floor, and the big lugs thudded through the farther wall of the room.
I stepped back, and there was the Blue Jay clinging to me in a blue funk. It was queer. You wouldn’t expect him to show the white feather as bad as that, and I was pretty disgusted to hear him whining: “It is no use! You cannot keep him away!”
“You damn little blockhead!” says I to the Blue Jay. “The door’s locked. No use bothering about that. It w
