By the time Don had told him something of the skirmish and of Glen Drake and his Uncle David the two boys were at Jud’s house. A poor, miserable-looking, one-story little place it was, with a cracked weather-worn door and a window on either side that looked out across the road on a large triangular field covered with clover and dandelions. “That’s our cow over there,” said Jud, “and those are our chickens. We had twenty-six, but we lost four the other night. Ma thinks a skunk got ’em, but I think it was Redcoats.” He led the way to a shed behind the house, and a moment later Don was looking at six fluffy black and white kittens nestled in the folds of a burlap bag. As he bent over them the mother cat came running from a corner of the shed, and he started backward. Sailor backed away and sat down; he had suffered enough for one day. “She won’t hurt you,” said Jud, laughing. “Will you, puss?” He played with the kittens for several minutes, stroking and calling each by name while the mother cat sat by and watched contentedly. “They’re pretty well grown now and about ready to shift for themselves. That’s a good dog of yours to sit there like that. I had a hard time to keep my dog away from them at first. Say, wouldn’t you like to have one? Ma says I can’t keep ’em all.” “Yes, I would,” replied Don. “We haven’t any, and a cat might be good company for my aunt.” “Well, here’s a nice one,” and Jud lifted one of the kittens that was all black except for one white foot. “See, she has one white shoe on; she lost the others.” “I’ll call it Whitefoot, then,” said Don and laughed. “Judson, are you home?” came a woman’s voice from the house. “Just got home, Ma.” “Well, come here; we lost two more chickens last night.” “Thunder!” exclaimed Jud in a low voice. “Yes, two more,” repeated Mrs. Appleton, appearing at the door of the shed. “I counted them just now, and there’s only twenty. Oh!” she exclaimed at sight of Don. “This is Don Alden,” said Jud; “he lives up in Puddin’ Lane.” Don found Jud’s mother a pleasant, talkative little woman who in some ways reminded him of his aunt, though she was not so old. When Jud had explained to her about their adventure with Tom Bullard and about Don’s trip to Concord she insisted that he stay and have something to eat with them. Later as Don was about to set out with his new pet, Jud whispered to him: “I’m going to stay up to-night and catch that chicken-thief. I wish you could be here with me. Can’t you come back?” “I don’t know,” Don replied doubtfully. “I’d like to, but there’s my aunt, you know; I don’t like to leave her alone. Have you got a gun or anything?” “No; but I’ve got a hickory club, and I can throw a stone pretty straight.” “I’d like to sit up with you,” said Don. CHAPTER VIII THE BOYS SET A TRAP