CHAPTER XIIITHE EVERGREEN TREE
The remainder of the night was a torment. Toward dawn Skippy dozed occasionally only to awaken each time with a start to find himself trembling and expectant. What he might hear or see he could not imagine, but he watched with relief the murky light of the new day seeping in through the chinks of the shutter and routing the dismal gloom that kept him in breathless suspense.
The light did no more than seep in, however, for the storm left in its wake gray, sullen skies and air that was warm and still. Frost went downstairs about six o’clock—Skippy had already learned to distinguish his lighter, hurried step from Devlin’s heavy tread. Then, after a moment, he heard the man at the barn, and soon the low hum of the car was audible as he backed it out and around the house.
Silence reigned in the dismal place for another hour or so and then Skippy heard Devlin moving about in his room. When the man walked hurriedly downstairs, Nickie awoke, wild-eyed and staring.
“Who—what’s that?” he whispered hoarsely.
“Just Devlin,” Skippy answered. “What’s the matter—you ain’t been dreamin’ like Timmy?”
Nickie ran his fingers through his straight black hair as he sat up. “I don’t know—maybe so. I just get scared when I hear the least little sound in this joint.Me, that’s never been scared of nothin’—hah!”
“I know,” Skippy admitted. “I guess Devlin makes us feel that way, huh?”
Nickie nodded. “If I didn’t hate the jug worse’n this house, I’d say, let’s sneak.”
“Maybe we’ll have to,” Skippy said softly, and nodded toward the sleeping Timmy. “If we stick round s’long as he’s done an’ get like he’s now, I’d rather take a chance an’ beat it.”
Nickie nodded thoughtfully. “Anythin’ you say, kid, an’ I’m stringin’ along. Even if you’re only a kid, that bean of yours works all day.”
Skippy warmed to Nickie for that tribute and he felt less afraid. It gave him a sense of strength to know that he had such an ally for he realized that he could do little alone.
Devlin called them gruffly to breakfast and the food wasn’t bad. It would have been almost pleasant, Skippy ventured to remark, if they only had more light in the kitchen. Nickie agreed to this, but Timmy seemed in a daze.
After breakfast, Devlin made a concession which took them by surprise. “On account of the weather being so hot,” he said gravely, “I’m going to let you boys stay outside a while.”
“Gee!” Skippy murmured.
Devlin scowled. “It’s taking a chance to let you out, but I’m counting on you not straying away from in sight of this house—understand?” After a pause, he added: “I got my reasons.”
They understood only too well and made no further comment when Devlin unlocked the front door and sat on the ugly high stoop as they passed down and into the clearing about the house. Timmy sat on the bottom step, blinking his blue eyes and clasping and unclasping his hands.
“What’s the matter?” Skippy asked sympathetically.
Timmy grinned. “I been in that dark house so long, my eyes don’t know howta act, that’s all.” He took a long, deep breath of the murky air as if it were the utmost luxury. Then suddenly his thin, pale face became almost colorless and he nodded toward the right of the clearing. “Look!” he gasped.
The other boys turned and saw a huge evergreen tree spreading its branches over the sinister house. Not a breath of air rustled its broad boughs—it seemed to stand there waiting.
“The tree in my dream!” Timmy said, trembling. “I never seen it till now! When I come here it’s night an’ I don’t notice it. I never looked out front—just now it’s the first....”
“What’s he talking about?” Devlin said, annoyed, from the top of the stoop.
“About that tree!” Nickie said, with ill-concealed contempt. “He had a terrible dream bout it last night—see?”
Devlin bit his lip and frowned. “It’s nonsense! What’s wrong with you, Timmy, eh?”
“What wouldn’t be wrong, hah?” Nickie retorted sullenly. “If he’d stayed in the pen he wouldn’t got no worse treatment than you give him—shuttin’ him up a month in this hole till he’s all shot. I ain’t sayin’ that it ain’t better late than never, but even up in Delafield they don’t keep a guy shut away from the daylight. Timmy or none of usaskedyou to spring us so you might give us a break an’ treat us like human bein’s.”
Devlin’s lips were set and grim and his beetle brows were so drawn that they made a deep furrow above his large nose. “Listen, you,” he said angrily, “any more talk like that from you and you’ll regret it. I’m running this and whether you did or didn’t ask to be sprung, makes no difference. You’ll keep your mouth shut—understand!”
The Greeks, smiling and silent until then, emitted a sound of dismay. Nickie mumbled something under his breath but made no other answer for the warning note in Devlin’s voice was not to be misunderstood. Skippy gulped, and just then they heard the unmistakable sound of an old car chugging along through the narrow swamp trail.
Presently Frost appeared in the clearing, driving an ancient, dilapidated car that groaned and ground to a stop. The sight of it was amusing and the boys stared at it, smiling and curious. Timmy, however, did not share this curiosity.
He had taken one look at the car, and fainted.