Thereupon he turned his lagging footsteps in the direction of the cottage. A lantern came bobbing out of the wood-shed door, and its light revealed the large presence of Johnny Kent simply clad in a flowing night-shirt and a pair of slippers. At discerning O’Shea advancing through the gloom, he shouted: “Why didn’t you wake me up at eight bells? I just come to and turned out to look for you, Cap’n Mike. All quiet, I suppose?” “Yes. I made it quiet, you sleepy old terrapin,” returned O’Shea with a laugh before they had come together. “Didn’t you hear me yell when I fell off the barn roof?” “Nary a yell. I do sleep sounder than when I was at sea,” and Johnny Kent waddled nearer and held the lantern higher. “Gracious saints, what have you been doin’ to yourself? Your nose is all bloodied up and one eye is bunged. What do you mean by falling off my barn roof? You must have tapped that barrel of hard cider in the cellar.” “I tapped a harder customer than that, Johnny. It was a gorgeous shindy while it lasted, but I had to wind it up. I caught your firebug and I laid him out in the barn-yard. Ye can hold a wake over him or send for the police.” The engineer swung his lantern in excited circles as he pranced toward the barn, unmindful of the chilly breeze that played about his bare shanks. “You’re not jokin’, are you, Cap’n Mike? The situation is too blamed serious for that. You landed him, honest? You’re the man to turn the trick. Where did you ketch him?” “I got the drop on him, as ye might say, and it was a divil of a drop. My neck is an inch shorter than it was, but me collision bulkhead held fast. He is a broth of a boy, and he will be hard to hold when he comes out of the trance I put him in.” “And I missed the fun,” mourned Johnny. “I’m surely getting old, Cap’n Mike. But I guess we can handle him without sending for the village constable to-night.” “I have seen you tame some pretty tough tarriers. This is a bad one and no mistake. Fetch the lantern closer and we will look him over.” They ploughed through the burdocks, the prickly burrs causing Johnny Kent to stride high and wide. The stranger lay as he had fallen. The light revealed him as a powerfully built man of middle age with reddish hair and a stubbled growth of beard. The dilapidated shirt and trousers were stained with earth and grass, and held together by a leather belt. His captors were about to scrutinize him more closely when he opened his eyes, groaned, and raised himself upon his elbow with an unexpected display of vitality. Bidding Johnny Kent stand by with the lantern, O’Shea caught up the hickory club and flourished it as a hint that unconditional surrender was advisable.