A MIDNIGHT SEARCH

That night was destined to be an eventful one on the Rover farm.  Arriving home, Sam and Tom told of the fun they had had and Dick laughed heartily.  Then all three of the boys went to bed.

About midnight came a loud shouting from the barn, followed by the report of a shotgun.  This was followed by a shriek from Sarah, the cook, who was afraid that burglars had come to murder her.

“What’s that?” questioned Dick, as he hopped out of bed.

“That’s Jack Ness’ gun,” answered Tom.  “Something must be wrong at the barn.”

“Chicken thieves again—­I’ll bet a new hat,” said Sam.  By this time Randolph Rover and his wife were up and were lighting a lamp.  Without waiting for them, the boys slipped on some clothing and their shoes and ran downstairs.  Dick took with him a pistol and each of the others a baseball bat.

“Boys! boys! be careful!” shouted their uncle after them.

“All right,” returned Dick, readily.

He was the first outside, but Sam and Tom were close upon his heels.  He heard Jack Ness running to the edge of a cornfield, shouting lustily.  Then came another report of the shotgun.

“What is it, Jack?” shouted Dick.  “Who are you shooting at?”

“I’m after two men,” was the hired man’s reply.  “They jest run into the cornfield.”

“Chicken thieves?” queried Tom.

“I guess so—­anyway they was prowlin’ around the hen house an’ the barn.  I called an’ asked ’em what they wanted and they ran for dear life—­so I knew they was up to no good.”

“They certainly must have been chicken thieves, or worse,” was Sam’s comment.  “Really, this is getting to be too much,” he added.  “We ought to catch them and have them locked up.”

“I’m willing to go after them,” answered Tom, readily.

“Did you get a good look at the rascals?” asked Dick.

“Not very good,” answered Jack Ness.

“They weren’t boys, were they?”

“No—­they were men—­both tall and heavy fellows.”

“Did you ever see them before?” asked Tom.  “Not that I can remember.”

While they were talking the party of four had run down to the edge of the cornfield.  This spot was really a peach orchard, but the trees were still so small that the ground was being utilized that season for corn, planted in rows between the trees.  The corn was not yet full grown, but it was high enough to conceal a man lying flat or crouching down.

The sky was filled with stars and the old moon was beginning to show over the hills beyond the valley, so it was fairly light across the field.  The boys kept their eyes on the corn and the peach trees, but failed to discover any persons moving among them.

“My shotgun is empty—­maybe I had better go back and load up,” said the hired man.

“Yes, do it, but hurry up,” answered Dick.  “I’ll stay here on guard with the pistol.”