The Indians, so far as he could determine, were all asleep in the cellar.

And Buddy, setting his teeth hard together, began to slide slowly backward toward the opening through which he had crawled into the roof.

When he had crawled in he had not noticed the springiness of the poles, but now his imagination tormented him with the sensation of sagging and swaying.

When his feet pushed through the opening he had to grit his teeth to hold himself steady.

It seemed as if someone were reaching up in the dark to catch him by the legs and pull him out.
Nothing happened, however, and after a little he inched backward until he hung with his elbows hooked desperately inside the opening, his head and shoulders within and protesting with every nerve against leaving the shelter.
Buddy said afterwards that he guessed he'd have hung there until daylight, only he was afraid it was about time to change guard, and somebody might catch him.