Roscoe. The
donkey was tethered outside the tent, and seemed satisfied with his
surroundings. The boys patted him and fed him on all sorts of dainties,
from sugar to pancakes made from quick-raising flour.
"Might as well keep on the good side of him," observed Fenn. "He's got
quite a trip ahead of him."
They decided to start off early in the morning and take the ladder to the
edge of the sanitarium grounds, hiding it in the woods.
It began to rain that night. There was a regual downpour, so hard that it
awakened the boys by pelting on the canvas roof over their heads.
"This is a storm, and no mistake!" exclaimed Fenn, sitting up in his cot.
"If it keeps up tomorrow night we could rescue every inmate in the
sanitarium."
Suddenly, above the sound of the rain, there came a startling noise. It
was like the mingled roar of a lion and the snarl of a tiger.
"What's that?" cried Ned.
"It's the donkey braying!" replied Fenn, and, a moment later, when the
sound was repeated, his companions knew Fenn was right.
"He doesn't like being out in the rain," Fenn went on. "I'm going to put
him under the wood-tent.
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