“Mr. Whitaker,” began Foster, “do you know who took our horse and sleigh?”

“Why!  Why, I supposed that you did.  Two young men came into the yard not more than three minutes ago and took them away.”

“They did?  Then it was the sophs,” said Foster turning to his comrades.  “We’ll never hear the last of it.  We can’t get a horse here, can we, Mr. Whitaker?” he inquired eagerly.

“I fear not.  I have none of my own, and there are not many to be had here anyway.”

“Did they start toward Winthrop?”

“I think so.  They turned toward the lower road.”

“Let’s get after them,” suggested Foster.

“A long way after them,” said Will grimly.  “We never could catch up with them.”

“Mr. Whitaker,” said Hawley, “how long ago were the canes taken away from here?”

The good man hesitated, and the freshman without waiting for him to speak began again.  “We belong to the same class as your grandson.  We’re freshmen and we don’t want the sophs to get those canes.”

“I regret exceedingly that I had anything to do with it, but my grandson over-persuaded me and so I consented.  I should say that it was about an hour ago when they came for the canes.”

“Who came?”

“There were two young gentlemen, and they brought me a note which informed me that I was to let them take the canes away.”

“A note?” demanded Hawley.  “What did it say?  Who signed it?”

“It was signed by Hawley—­Albert Hawley, if I recollect aright, and also by my grandson.”

“My name is Hawley and somebody forged it.  The sophs have the canes and I’m afraid it’s too late—­”

“Too late nothing, Hawley!” said Will impulsively.  “What kind of a rig, I mean wagon or sleigh or whatever it was, did they have?” he inquired of the minister.

“It was a box wagon, a farm wagon, and they had a farmer to drive for them.”

“Did you know the man?” demanded Will.

“No.  I cannot say that I did.  He was a stranger to me.  But the note—­”

“Probably some soph disguised as a farmer.  Did he have any other load in the wagon box?”

“Yes.  I noticed some bags of meal.”

“Good.  And you say they took the lower road?”

“Yes.  I recollect that distinctly.”

“Isn’t there a short cut?  Can’t we cut across lots and head them off?  They would have to go slow, and it might be that we could head them somewhere and get those canes away from them.”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Whitaker.  “I don’t know that I am doing right to tell you, but inasmuch as the canes were secured by a forgery I shall certainly tell you all I know of the matter.  If you go down to that little valley,” and as he spoke he pointed in a direction in the rear of the barn, “you will find a pathway that leads beside the brook almost in a straight line to what we call the ford.  It saves between three and four miles to Winthrop, and whenever I walk I take the path.  I—­”