The dern boys was lyin'.

We might jest as well go home." And he would have started for home had not Isaac Porter uttered a fearful groan and staggered back against a swamp reed for support, his horrified eyes glued upon a window in the log house.

The reed was inadequate, and Isaac tumbled over backward.
For a full minute the company stared dumbly at the indistinct little window, paralysis attacking every sense but that of sight.

At the expiration of another minute the place was deserted, and Anderson Crow was the first to reach the bicycles far up the river bank.

Every face was as white as chalk, and every voice trembled.