Slept heavily and dreamlessly, while deadly peril
crept upon him.
CHAPTER X.
PEGGY'S INTUITION.
The movements of the invaders of the stable, which now housed the
"winged steeds" of the young aviators, were mysterious in the extreme.
The Norwegian carried a tin can containing some sort of liquid which
he was ordered to pour about the floor in the neighborhood of the
aeroplanes. This done, Dan Cassell collected several scraps of litter
and made quite a pile of it.
"All ready now, I guess," he said, with what was meant as an attempt
at a grin. But his lips were pale, and his forced jollity was a dismal
failure. As for his father, he made no attempt to conceal his agitation.
"Dan, they may be burned alive," he faltered; "better call it all off."
"Not when we've gone as far as this with it," was the rejoinder; "give
me a match."
"Dan!"
"It's all right, dad. They'll wake in time."
"But if not?"
"Then they'll have to take their medicine."
With fingers that trembled as if their owner was palsied, Jim Cassell
handed his son some matches.
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