"Then let us get all our clothes, shoes, everything on at once, and walk boldly down-stairs." Three minutes later the trio were marching down-stairs into the kitchen. Hare and his wife were standing at the fireplace, looking the picture of surprise, as their guests burst into the room, with the irrepressible Waggie at their heels. The old negro "aunty," who had been dozing on a stool near the hearth, jumped to her rheumatic feet in consternation. "Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" she cried, throwing her withered arms above her turbaned head. For the guests held revolvers in their hands, and the "aunty's" heart always sank at the thought of gunpowder. The farmer took a step forward, as if uncertain what to do or say. At last he said, trying to smile, yet only succeeding in looking hypocritical: "You ain't going to leave us this time of night, are you? Wait till morning, and get some breakfast." "It's a nice breakfast you'd give us in the morning," laughed Watson, with a significant look at their host. "A halter stew, or some roast bullets, I guess!" Hare jumped backward with such suddenness that he almost knocked into the fire his frightened wife who had been standing directly behind him. "What do you mean?" he hissed. "You know perfectly well what I mean, Mr. Hare," said Watson, looking him straight in the face, whilst the other spectators listened in breathless interest. "You have sent word to the Jasper Vigilants to ride over here and arrest us, on the suspicion of being spies." Had the heavens suddenly fallen, the countenances of the Hares could not have shown more dismay. "How did you find that out?" asked the farmer, quite forgetting to play his part of amiable host. "Never mind how," cried George, who was burning to play his part. "Only it's a pity you haven't as much mercy in you as your wife has." "Listen," said Watson, as he motioned the others in the room to be silent. "George, you will watch this old negress, and if she attempts to make a sound, or to leave the room before we are ready, give her a hint from your revolver." With a scream of fright, comical in its intensity, the "aunty" sank back on her stool near the hearth, and covered her dark face with her hands. There she sat, as if she expected to be murdered at any moment. "And you, Macgreggor," continued Watson impressively, "will keep the same sort of watch over Mrs. Hare. Happen what may, there is not to be a sound from either woman." Mrs. Hare started in confusion. Her husband made a bound for the kitchen door. With another bound no less quick Watson darted forward, caught the farmer, pushed him back at the point of the pistol, and bolted the door. "What do you want to do?" demanded Hare. "Are we to be murdered?" "No," cried Watson, "but----" Then there came the sound of horses' hoofs in the distance. Every one listened eagerly, and none more so than the farmer.