“We got lost, I told you!” exclaimed Tom, a bit provoked.  “We didn’t do it on purpose.  If we’ve done any damage we’re responsible for it.”

“Yes, I know what that means!” sneered the man.  By this time he was at the fence over which the boys had leaped into his yard, and, swinging the lantern about, he endeavored to see how much damage had been done to his corn.

“Tromped down!  A whole passel of ye tromped it down!” he muttered.  “I thought so, an’ that’s my best field, too!  I’ve a notion t’ have ye arrested fer trespass.”

“Oh, be sensible,” ripped out Tom, who was fast losing his temper, a thing that seldom occurred to him.  “Tell us what the damage is, and I’ll settle.  And then tell us how we can get on the river road, and back to Elmwood Hall.”

“Huh!  A nice lot of school boys you are!” sneered the, man.  “Th’ fust thing they ought t’ teach ye is manners!  Spilin’ a man’s corn!”

“Can’t you say what the damage is?” put in Jack.

“No, I can’t—­not until mornin’, anyhow.”

“Then tell us how to get on the right road, and you can send your bill to Elmwood Hall.  Fairfield is my name—­Tom Fairfield,” cried our hero.

“Oh, I’ll send you the bill all right,” snapped the farmer.  “I’ll attend to that, and ye’ll pay th’ last cent due, too, let me tell you that!”

“All right,” agreed Tom with a sigh.  “I suppose you’ll charge us double, but we’ve got to expect that from such as you.”

“What do you mean?” snapped, the man swinging his lantern up so he could see Tom’s face.

“You know what I mean!  You don’t seem to want to be reasonable.  Now, if it’s all the same to you, will you kindly direct us to the right road?  And as soon as your bill comes in I’ll settle it, though I want to say that we had no idea of injuring your corn, and wouldn’t have gotten into your field but that we got lost.”

“Huh!  That’s a likely story.  I know you fresh young school squabs!”

“Oh, where’s the road?” asked Tom impatiently.  “We don’t care much for your opinions!”

“Find it yourself!” snapped the man.  “I’ll not show you, and the sooner you get off my property the better for you!”

“Humph!  I can’t say that I admire your disposition,” spoke Tom, in exasperation, for he was cold and wet, and the prospect of reporting in late, and making a failure of the cross-country run, was not pleasant.

“None of your sass!” growled the man.  “Be off, now, or I’ll turn the dogs loose!”

With another took at the trampled rows of corn he went into the house, taking the lantern with him, and shutting the door after him.  It seemed darker than ever in the farmyard with the light gone, and the rain was coming down in torrents.

“Nice prospect!” murmured George.

“What are we going to do?” asked Bert.

“He’s the man with the original grouch all right,” contributed Jack.  “Where’ll we go?”