Templeton came round to his friend’s view, and they lost no time in making their preparations. The lane was apparently used only as a short cut from the high-road when coal was brought to the farm. It was just wide enough to allow the passage of a cart, and even on a bright night was dark, owing to the tall hedge on one side and the high blank wall on the other. At its darkest spot, ten or a dozen yards from the house, Eves set to work to prepare the ground. He measured off a space about four yards long, and at the end farthest from the house dug the soft earth to the depth of four inches. Working back from this point, in the course of a couple of hours’ diligent spade work he had made a shallow excavation in the lane, varying in depth from four inches to eight. Meanwhile Templeton had broken up the tar and melted it down in the small portable copper which the farmer used for conveying tar from place to place. They ladled the molten stuff into the excavation, filling up to the level of the lane. "Hope they won’t smell a rat—which is tar backwards," said Eves. "Perhaps the smell will have gone off a bit by the time it’s dark. Tell you what, we’ll cover it lightly with farm litter, and strew some more between here and the road; perhaps one smell will kill the other." Last of all they carried two strands of stout wire across the lane, about half-way along the tarry patch, and three inches above its surface. "Good!" cried Eves, surveying the completed work. "In the darkness they won’t see a thing." "Suppose they don’t come this way at all?" said Templeton. "You’re a horrible pessimist. Is there a better way? Aren’t all my deductions good? Well, then, cheer up, and see if you can manage to laugh when the flies are trapped." About half-past nine (summer time) Eves and Templeton left the farmhouse by the front door. Mrs. Trenchard locked the door behind them, and they had previously assured themselves that all the other doors and windows were securely fastened. Each carried a shot-gun. Two guns were always suspended on the wall of Mr. Trenchard’s den, and it had occurred to Eves that they might prove useful. It was a dark summer night. There was no moon, and the starlight was too feeble to throw any illumination upon the tree-bordered high-road. The lads’ intention was to walk down the road until they came to the lane, to hang about the entrance there until they discovered the approach of Smail, and then to take cover in the angle between the hedge and the road, behind the visitor. They had hardly left the farm gate when Eves’s quick eyes detected a small figure lurking in the shadow on the farther side of the road. "Noakes has posted a scout," he whispered. "They’re going to make the attempt. But this is awkward, Bob. We shall have to dispose of the scout; I fancy it’s long-haired Josiah." "I bar that," said Templeton, decisively. "I’m not going to hold up the youngster, or anything of that sort."