The Rushton Boys at Rally Hall Part 8

CHASING THE TRAMPS

The Rushton boys and their chums crouched low in the shadow of the fence, and took a careful look around. All of them knew the violent temper of Mr. Sam Perkins, and none of them wanted to make the acquaintance of that famous dog whip he had recently bought at the village store, loudly declaring at the same time the use he expected to make of it.

But five sharp pairs of eyes could see nothing to cause alarm. A sleepy silence brooded over the orchard, and it looked as though Sam must be busy at some other part of his extensive farm.

"I guess it's all right," said Fred, in a cautious whisper.

"Cricky, look at those beauties!" exclaimed Jack Youmans, as he pounced upon a luscious peach that lay within a foot of him.

The others quickly followed his example, and there was soon no sound except the munching of jaws, as they satisfied their first hunger for the delicious fruit.

There was no need to pluck them from the trees, as there were plenty lying on the ground. And since these were doomed to rot in time, the consciences of the boys did not disturb them much. Still, they knew they were trespa.s.sing, and at first they kept a keen lookout. Nothing happened, however, and gradually their caution relaxed, and they strayed farther and farther from the road into the heart of the orchard.

Suddenly, a fierce barking made them jump and sent their hearts into their throats. They looked behind them, and saw a big dog rus.h.i.+ng toward them. He was between them and the fence, and shut off escape in that direction.

"It's Sam's dog, Tiger!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Bob, his face growing pale.

"Quick, this way!" cried Fred, grasping the situation at a glance.

"Let's make for the barn. It's our only chance."

They were not more than two hundred feet from a big red barn, which had two entrances, one of which faced them. The one at the further end was closed, but the one to which the boys were nearer was open.

They ran with all their might, a wholesome fear lending wings to their feet. There were many stories abroad about the ferocity of Tiger, whose name seemed to fit his nature. Only a week before, he had taken a piece out of a man's leg, and Sam Perkins had more than once been in danger of lawsuits on account of the dog's savage disposition. But the farmer was ugly himself, and, instead of trying to curb the brute, seemed to glory in its reputation.

"I ain't a-goin' to muzzle him," he would say, when people complained that the dog was dangerous. "All any one has to do is to keep off my grounds, and he won't get hurt."

The dog was gaining at every jump, but the boys had a good start, and the distance to the barn was short. They covered it in fast time, and almost fell inside the door. Fred and Bob had just time to swing it shut and slip the bar in place, when Tiger hurled himself against it.

It was a close call, and for a minute or two they lay there, panting and unable to speak.

The hay scattered on the floor had deadened the sound of their footsteps, as they piled in, and, in the silence of the big barn, the only sound came from their own gaspings for breath.

"Oh!" Jim was beginning, when Fred lifted his hand and put his finger on his lips as a signal to keep still.

"S-sh," he whispered. "I thought I heard some one speaking over there,"

and he pointed to a distant corner of the barn where fodder for the cattle was stored.

"Who can it be?" whispered Teddy in return. "Do you think it can be Sam?

If it is, we're done for."

"No, it isn't Sam," was Fred's guarded reply. "If it were, he'd come to see what Tiger's barking about. Let's creep over there and take a look."

As silently as Indians, the boys wormed their way across the floor. The only light came from the cracks in the side of the barn, and they had to use great care not to b.u.mp into anything that might betray their presence.

Suddenly, Fred, who was leading, stopped.

"Wait," he breathed. "I just got a look at them. There are two of them there, and they look to me like tramps. Stay here a minute."

They halted, while he crept on a little farther, until, through a small opening in a stall, he could get a better view.

He glued his eye to the opening and studied more closely the two strangers.

His first guess, that they were tramps, proved to be correct. Both had all the marks of vagrants. Their clothes were ragged and dirty, their hair long and uncombed, and their faces were covered with scraggy beards.

One was tall and lank, and seemed to be the leader of the two. His eyes were little and close together. He had no socks, and his toes showed through his ragged shoes. His only other clothing was a torn s.h.i.+rt, opened at the throat, and a pair of old trousers held up by one suspender. Up near his temple was an ugly scar, that looked as though it had been made by a knife.

His companion was shorter and stockier. His clothes were on a par with those of his "pal," and he looked equally "down and out."

A partly emptied bottle stood on the floor beside them, and their flushed faces and the gla.s.sy look of their eyes told what had become of most of its contents.

"I tell you, I heard something," the shorter of the two was saying.

"You're woozy," answered the other. "It's only the dog a-barkin'. He's treed a squirrel, or he's diggin' out a woodchuck, or somethin'."

But, true to the laziness that had made them what they were, neither took the trouble to go to see what the disturbance was about.

"So you think we can get away with that job all right?" asked one, evidently resuming a talk that had been interrupted.

"Sure thing," said the other. "Why, it's a cinch. A blind man can do it.

I took a squint at the place this mornin', an' it's like taking candy from a baby."

Fred strained his ears to listen.

But the men had dropped to a lower tone, and, try as he might, he could only catch a word here and there. Once when the tall man raised his voice a trifle, he heard the phrases "apple tree" and "side window." But this did not give him any clear idea of what was meant, nor did the shorter man's grunt of "dead easy" help him out.

He beckoned to his companions, and, one by one, they crept up to take a look at the tramps. Teddy had just taken his turn, when they were startled at hearing a gruff voice, which they knew only too well, speaking to the dog.

"What in thunder's the matter with yer, Tige?"

A frantic outburst of barking was the response.

"It's Sam!" murmured Teddy.

"Now we're in for it!" exclaimed Bob, and his voice was shaky.

"Keep perfectly still," whispered Fred. "He can't get in through that door, anyway. He'll have to come round to the other door, and the minute he does, we'll take down the bar from this one and bolt for the fence."

"Sumthin' doin', eh!" exclaimed the farmer, as he tried the door. "I might have known that dog wouldn't have brought me over here fur nuthin'. Come along, Tige," and the boys heard him running along the side of the barn to the other door.

The tramps too had heard the farmer, and sprang to their feet, confused and panic-stricken. Another instant, and the door flew open, and Sam Perkins rushed in, with Tiger at his heels.

Coming from the bright sunlight into the twilight of the barn, the farmer peered around, not seeing clearly for a moment. But the tramps saw him plainly enough, as they saw also the pitchfork in his hand, and they made a rush past him for the open air. Taken by surprise, Sam was almost upset, and they took full advantage of the chance. A howl of pain showed that Tige had nipped the taller one, but he shook the dog off and ran after his companion, who was making a desperate effort to break the record for speed.

Pulling himself together with a shout of rage, Sam joined in the chase.

Fred slipped the bar from the door, and pushed it open.