“While you do the rest,” she said, “I’ll just run up, and look over the loft, the boys are out now, and Dorothy won’t be afraid I’ll forget my manners.”

“You come here directly, and set this table for lunch,” ordered Dorothy.  “We are going out for trout, and will not be in until eating time, so we will get everything ready now.”

“All right,” answered Tavia, at the same time climbing up the ladder, and making her way to the loft.

“Oh, let her explore,” said Cologne.  “Then when she gets enough of it she will be satisfied.”

“Don’t touch any of the old guns up there,” called Dorothy, “Jack says there are dangerous.”

“All righty!” yelled Tavia from above.  “But say wouldn’t this be a handsome place to drop from?”

She was in the opening of the hay loft, lying on the floor with her head over the edge.

“Oh don’t” begged Cologne.  “Tavia, that is dangerous!”

Her voice was rather strained, Cologne was annoyed.  Tavia jumped up, and, with a most unladylike “whoop,” ran from one end of the loft to the other, exclaiming at every new found article of interest.  Suddenly she stopped.

“Now what do you suppose she is at?” asked Dorothy, as she and Cologne listened.

“Maybe Jack’s pipes.  I am sure she would be interested in them.  He has quite a collection.”

“Oh!  G-i-r-l-s!” came a shout from the loft.  “Come quick!  A wild animal!”

The voice left no room for doubt.  Tavia did see something.

Cologne and Dorothy dropped their work and scrambled up the ladder.

“Over here!”

Tavia was on all fours, peering behind an old door that lay close to the side timbers of the barn.  “Just look!  His hair stands up like a porcupine, and his eyes!  Oh, my! such eyes!”

Cologne and Dorothy looked.

“There certainly is something,” admitted Cologne.

“It has straight black hair,” exclaimed Dorothy, “and it does look fierce!”

“What shall we do?” asked Cologne.  “Jack will not be back until night.”

“And if we take our eyes off it we run the risk of having it under the bed to-night,” said Tavia.  “Now if only we could shoot a gun,” and she looked at the line of weapons that decorated the side of the loft.

“I can load and fire a gun,” declared Dorothy.  “Wasn’t my father a soldier?”

“Wasn’t her father a soldier!” repeated Tavia.  “Cologne you hump down there, and keep your eye on the bear, while we get a gun, and load it.  Then if it’s all the same to you, I’ll do down stairs, and out in the back yard until it is all over.  I hate murder close by.”

“I’ll choose my own gun, if you please,” said Dorothy, as Tavia was about to hand her an old musket.  “I like the vintage of the last century at least.”

“Are you sure you won’t hurt yourself?” asked Cologne anxiously.  “I think perhaps we had best try to box the thing in here.  Shooting is rather risky.”