“Walked,” answered Tom as calmly as he could, although this is not saying much, for he realized that the pair before him were desperate characters and that he was no match for them.

“Have you been spying on us?” demanded the fellow called Nolly.

“I’ve been spying on this man,” answered Tom, pointing to the other fellow.  “He stole my brother’s watch.  What have you done with it?”

“Never stole a watch in me life?” returned Buddy quickly.

“I say you did, and it will do no good to deny it.”

“If you say I stole any watch I’ll —­ I’ll knock yer down,” cried Buddy fiercely.

And he rushed at Tom and aimed a blow the boy’s head with his stick.

Nolly also ran forward with his sandbag; and seeing this, Tom leaped back, and was soon making tracks as fast as his legs could carry him.

The two men did not pursue him far.  Instead, they turned and ran in the opposite direction.

Tom hurried on until he came within sight of a large farmhouse.  Reaching the front door, he used the brass knocker vigorously.

Soon an upper window was raised, and the head of a middle-aged man was thrust out.

“Who is there? “he demanded.

“I want help, sir,” answered Tom.  “I am a pupil at Putnam Hall, and I have just spotted a fellow in this neighborhood who robbed my brother of a gold watch.”

“Is that so!”

“Oh, papa, is it one of the boys Grace and I were telling you about?” came in the voice of Nellie Laning.  “Aren’t you Tom Rover?”

“Yes.  This must be Mr. Laning.”

“Yes, my boy, I am John Laning,” answered the farmer.  “I will be down in a moment.  We are in the habit of retiring early.”

In a few minutes Tom was let into the house, and he told his story to John Laning, his wife, and the two girls, all of whom listened with interest.

Then a hired man was aroused, and the two men and the boy hurried to where the campfire had been located.

But, as stated before, Buddy and Nolly had made good use of their time, and no trace of them was to be found.

“They have skipped out,” said Mr. Laning.

“To look for them will be worse than looking for spiders in a corn stack.  I suppose you’ll be getting back to Putnam Hall now?”

“If it is all the same, I would like to engage a room at your farmhouse for the night,” answered Tom, and told his tale.

At the mention of Josiah Crabtree’s name John Laning’s face grew dark.

“I don’t wonder you had a row with that man,” he said.  “I know him only too well.  You can stay at my house if you will, and it shall not cost you a cent.”

“Hullo, here is luck!” thought Tom, and thanked the farmer for his offer.

When they got back to the farmhouse Tom’s story had to be told to Grace and Nellie, while Mr. Laning went off to prepare a room for the youth.