“Well, with that animal out there I guess they’d be safe to put the family silver on the front piazza,” retorted Roy. “But I guess there’s some one around somewhere. There’s a fire in the stove and that looks as though they meant to get supper.” The mention of supper brought back Chub’s valor. “Well, come on, and let’s try the front-door trick. Go easy, fellows.” They tiptoed across the kitchen, through the entry, and reached the front door only to find that it was locked and that there was no key in sight. “Sometimes they hang it on a nail alongside the door,” muttered Chub, running his hand around the frame. “Or put it under the mat,” said Roy. “There isn’t any mat. Let’s try a window. Come on in here.” He led the way into a dim and deserted parlor, a stuffy, uncanny apartment in which the curtains were closely drawn at the three windows. “See if you can see Fido,” counseled Chub. Roy raised the shade at one of the windows on the front of the house and looked out. Beneath was a bed of purple phlox and beyond was a walk and a little space of grass. At the right was the lane--and safety. “He isn’t in sight,” Roy answered in whispers. “But he may come.” “That doesn’t matter,” answered Chub, recklessly. “I want to go home to supper. Push up the window.” Roy obeyed. The sash creaked and screamed as he forced it up and they paused and held their breath, expecting to see the dog come bounding into sight. But nothing happened. “You go first, Roy,” said Chub. “Dick and I can run faster than you.” “Want me to have the first bite, eh?” laughed Roy, as he put a knee over the sill. “Be quiet! Don’t make so much noise,” said Chub. “Get on out.” Roy was sitting on the sill, his feet dangling above the flower bed. “That’s all right,” he muttered, “but--say, Dick, go back and take a peek out of the window and see if he’s still there.” “All right.” Dick tiptoed back to the kitchen. “I don’t know,” said Chub, “that I should want the family to walk in now and discover us. We might have some difficulty in--_Hello!_” He darted away from the window, leaving Roy blankly confronting a very tall man with a tangled black beard, who had suddenly and noiselessly come around the corner of the house. He wore dirty brown jumpers, carried a single barreled shot-gun, and wasn’t at all prepossessing. And beside him, still growling and bristling, was the yellow dog. Roy stared silently with open mouth. [Illustration: Roy stared silently, with open mouth] CHAPTER IX PRISONERS The farmer smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile, and it exposed half a dozen yellow fanglike teeth that made Roy wonder whether there could be any relationship between the dog and his master. “Tell the other feller to come back,” said the farmer. “I seen him.” “You mean you saw me,” murmured Chub, stepping into sight behind Roy. “What’s that?” asked the farmer, suspiciously. “How do you do?” asked Chub, affably.