“Ah! Some one must have got careless with the oil,” observed Average Jones. “That fool Tuxall!” broke in Farley with an oath. “It was him gummed the whole game.” “Mr. Tuxall, I regret to say,” remarked Average Jones, “has left for parts unknown, so the Harwick authorities inform me, probably foreseeing a charge of arson.” “Arson?” repeated the Reverend Mr. Prentice in astonishment. “Of course. Only oil and matches could have made a barn flare up, after a three-days’ rain, as his did. Now, Bailey, to continue. You ran across the fields to the Tuxall place and went around—let me see; the wind had shifted to the northeast—yes; to the northeast of the barn and quite a distance away. There you saw a man at work in his shirt.” “Well-I’ll-be-jiggered!” said the boy in measured tones. “Where were you hiding, Mr. Jones?” “Not behind the tree there, anyway,” returned the Ad-Visor with a chuckle. “There is a tree there, I suppose?” “Yes; and there was something alive tied up in it with a rope.” “Well, not exactly alive,” returned Average Jones, “though the mistake is a natural one.” “I tell you, I know,” persisted Bailey. “While Mr. and Mrs. Farley were workin’ over some kind of a box, I shinned up the tree.” “Bold young adventurer! And what did you find?” “One of the limbs was shakin’ and thrashin’. I crawled out on it. I guess it was kind o’ crazy me, but I was goin’ to find out what was what if I broke my neck. There was a rope tied to it, and some big thing up above pullin’ and jerkin’ at it, tryin’ to get away. Pretty soon, Mr. and Mrs. Farley came almost under me. He says: ‘Is Tuxall all ready?’ and she says: ‘He thinks we ought to wait half an hour. The street’ll be full of folks then. Then he says: ‘Well, I hate to risk it, but maybe it’s better.’ just then, the rope gave a twist and came swingin’ over on me, and knocked me right off the limb. I gave a yell and then I landed. Next I knew I was in bed. And that’s all.” “Now I’ll take up the wondrous tale,” said Average Jones. “The Farleys, naturally discomfited by Bailey’s abrupt and informal arrival, were in a quandary. Here was an inert boy on their hands. He might be dead, which would be bad. Or, he might be alive, which would be worse, if they left him.” “How so?” asked the Reverend Mr. Prentice. “Why, you see,” explained Average Jones, “they couldn’t tell how much he might have seen and heard before he made his hasty descent. He might have enough information to spoil their whole careful and elaborate plan.” “But what in the world was their plan?” demanded the minister.