"It is weather-tight," added Stead, "and when it is cleaned out you
will see!"
"And the soldiers will never find it," added Patience.
"There is something in that," said Blane. "But at any rate, though
it be summer, you can never sleep there to-night."
"The girls cannot," said Stead, "but I shall, to look after things."
These were long days, and by the evening many of the remnants of
household stuff had been brought, the cows and Whitefoot had been
tied up in their dilapidated shed, with all the hay Stead could
gather together to make them feel at home. There was a hollow under
the rock where he hoped to keep the pigs, but neither they nor the
sheep could be brought in at present. They must take their chance,
the sheep on the moor, the pigs grubbing about the ruins of the
farmyard. The soldiers must be too busy for marauding, to judge by
the constant firing that had gone on all day, the sharp rattle of the
musquets, and now and then the grave roll of a cannon.
Stead had been too busy to attend, but half the village had been
watching from the height, which accounted perhaps for the move from
the farm having been so uninterrupted after the first.
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