“So would I,” said Chub, grimly, thrusting his hands in his pockets and walking across to the single narrow window through which the late sunlight slanted. When he turned again to Roy, there was a smile on his face. “Isn’t this the greatest pickle, Roy? He thinks we’re a couple of hardened criminals; thinks we have been here before.” He laughed softly. “I’ve never been in jail yet. I wonder how it feels.” “I don’t see where the fun comes in,” answered Roy. “We may have a dickens of a time convincing folks that we didn’t come here to steal his things. Where do you suppose Dick got to?” “Blest if I know. Maybe he saw the old chap coming across from the barn and hid himself. Maybe he managed to get out the back door while the old fellow was round front. If he did--” “He’s coming back,” muttered Roy. “And he’s bringing that beast of a dog.” “You stay here and watch, Carlo,” said the farmer outside the door. “Don’t let ’em out, sir!” “Mr. Ewing!” called Roy. “Well? I hear ye.” “Won’t you believe what we tell you? That we had no intention of robbing your house.” “Don’t you waste your breath on me, young man. Keep them yarns for the police. I won’t keep you waiting longer’n I can help. You’d better not try to get out; it wouldn’t be good for you; Carlo’s got a sort of a mean disposition, he has.” “So have you,” cried Chub. “You’ve got the upperhand now, but just you wait till I get out of here! I’ll make you wish you had a grain or two of common-sense; hear?” “I hear ye,” muttered the farmer, “I hear ye. I guess what you fellers need is a few years in jail, and, by gum, you’re going to get it! Watch ’em, Carlo!” They heard him go stumping down-stairs and out of the house at the back. Roy went to the window and after much grunting, managed to open the lower sash. Chub joined him. “We can’t get out here, that’s certain,” he said. “It’s thirty feet to the ground if it’s an inch. Look at the old fool!” Mr. Ewing was in plain sight in front of the barn. He had run a rickety side-bar buggy out of the carriage shed, and now he entered the barn again. “He’s going to town for a constable,” mused Roy. “I wonder how far it is.” “He said he wouldn’t be more than an hour.” “Then we’ve got an hour to find a way out of here.” Roy turned and looked frowningly about the room. It was some twelve by fifteen feet in size, with one door into the hall, and one window. The walls were kalsomined a streaky white. The furnishings consisted of a bed and a mattress, a yellow bureau, a chair, and a wash-stand with bowl and pitcher and a square of rag carpet. “If we only had some bedclothes,” muttered Roy. “Or a ladder,” added Chub with a grin. “I guess we’re here to stay unless--” “What?” “Unless Dick turns up. I don’t believe he’s gone off very far, do you?” Roy’s reply was interrupted by the clatter of wheels and they went back to the window in time to see Mr. Ewing rattle by in the buggy. He looked up and grinned malevolently at the faces in the window.