"Sure, only if it's bigger'n we can do an' we get grabbed--we're outa luck. That'd mean double time. Aw, it ain't no use worryin'. If they let us put the feed bag on regular an' give us bunks, it's worth doin' 'em a favor." Skippy nodded but did not answer. He was too intent on watching the number of turns that Frost had made within the past few moments. They had already made three off the wooded road and now with the fourth one they were in a dense woods and proceeding very slowly along a road little wider than a footpath. Then suddenly they rolled into a clearing and stopped. Frost chuckled and switched on his headlights. A house, square-roofed and dingy, loomed up before them. Its shingles were so devoid of paint that it was impossible to say what color they had originally been painted. Blistered and peeling from long years of neglect and with its shutters closed like so many pairs of sleeping eyes the structure presented a picture of abject loneliness. Unkempt grass and weeds grew up to the high stoop; there was no porch. Behind the house and a little to the left, Skippy glimpsed a barn that was also in disrepair. Notwithstanding this, he supposed that Barker and Frost parked their car in it. "No bulls'll turn you kids up here," Frost said, as if reading their thoughts. He turned a leathern-looking face toward Skippy, smiling out of shrewd eyes. "This house usta be in the center of a village till a fire burned the town out. Then the railroad decided to run twenty-five miles away so the folks left it flat. This bein' the only house left they let the woods grow up 'round it and now, after seventy-five years, nobody knew about it, 'cept an old nit-wit hermit that put me and Barker wise. Last year he died so there ain't nobody now'll bother you kids, much less the bulls." Barker turned to them and in the half-light his long, grave face and staring light eyes contrasted strangely with the dark wisps of hair that straggled from under his hat and down on his forehead. But it was when he talked that Skippy was startled, for the man's voice was so solemn and sonorous that it was eerie. "Now boys," he was saying, "you see how safe you are here. Keep it in mind and don't get the idea that you can manage your own freedom better than I can. For one thing, it would get Frost and me into trouble if you were picked up and if you weren't, you'd get in trouble yourselves, because this place is almost all surrounded by swamps and you might not find your way out. When I say the coast is clear to ship you west--all right. You'll come out of this house then, and not before!" There was a warning note in his voice that sent a chill up and down Skippy's spine. He wished his Airedale, Mugs, had lived to be with him at a time like this. Shorty and Biff exchanged a few words in their native tongue and suddenly Nickie Fallon's hand stole over and coming in contact with Skippy's wrist, he grasped it tightly. CHAPTER VIII