But the Western girl did not like being thwarted in any matter--even the smallest. And when Hiram would not come to take Pete Dickerson's place, the very much indulged girl had showed the young farmer that she was offended. However, the afternoon at Langdon's Grove passed very pleasantly, and Hiram and his party did not arrive at the farm again until dusk had fallen. “I'll go down and shut your turkeys up for the night, Sister,” Hiram said, after he had done the other chores for he knew the girl would be afraid to go so far from the house by lantern-light. And when he reached the turkey coop, 'way down in the field, Hiram was very glad indeed that he had come instead of the girl. For the coop was empty. There wasn't a turkey inside, or thereabout. It had been dark an hour and more, then, and the poults should long since have been hovered in the coop. Had some marauding fox, or other “varmint”, run the young turkeys off their reservation? That seemed improbable at this time of year--and so early in the evening. Foxes do not usually go hunting before midnight, nor do other predatory animals. Hiram had brought the barn lantern with him, and he took a look around the neighborhood of the empty coop. “My goodness!” he mused, “Sister will cry her eyes out if anything's happened to those little turks. Now, what's this?” The ground was cut up at a little distance from the coop. He examined the tracks closely. They were fresh--very fresh indeed. The wheel tracks of a light wagon showed, and the prints of a horse's shod hoofs. The wagon had been driven down from the main road, and had turned sharply here by the coop. Hiram knew, too, that it had stood there for some time, for the horse had moved uneasily. Of course, that proved the driver had gotten out of the wagon and left the horse alone. Doubtless there was but one thief--for it was positive that the turkeys had been removed by a two-footed--not a four-footed--marauder. “And who would be mean enough to steal Sister's turkeys? Almost everybody in the neighborhood has a few to fatten for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Who--did--this?” He followed the wheel marks of the wagon to the road. He saw the track where it turned into the field, and where it turned out again. And it showed plainly that the thief came from town, and returned in that direction. Of course, in the roadway it was impossible to trace the particular tracks made by the thief's horse and wagon. Too many other vehicles had been over the road within the past hour. The thief must have driven into the field just after night-fall, plucked the ten young turkeys, one by one, out of the coop, tying their feet and flinging them into the bottom of his wagon. Covered with a bag, the frightened turkeys would never utter a peep while it remained dark.