The boy lowered the glass, wiped the lens on his sleeve, and carefully focused again. A puzzled frown furrowed his face. Save for the flapping of his trousers in the wind, Mr. Maudsley stood motionless, as of course he should. But Mr. Trask.... A passing cloud slid over the moon, darkening the landscape. In the few seconds before it brought complete blackness Jimmy thought he saw Mr. Trask kick up his heels, leap high in the air and begin to dance a rigadoon over the shocked corn. * * * * * At breakfast next morning Jimmy waited impatiently for his sister to come downstairs. He hoped she would get to the table before his father because with Papa present he couldn't talk, and he wanted to talk. When at last Stella took her chair, he stretched his foot under the table and kicked her slightly. "I've got a secret," he whispered. "Tell it to me," said Stella. "It's a big secret." "If you won't tell, I won't give you any of my Flinch candy." Jimmy was silent a moment as he gave this thought. Then he leaned forward and whispered, "Mr. Trask moved last night." "He always moves," replied Stella, unimpressed. "I mean really moved. Toward Mr. Maudsley." Stella choked on her porridge and the spoon all but slipped from her hand. She stared with wide open eyes. "He didn't." Their whispers broke off as Mr. Tapping strode across the kitchen and took his place at the head of the table. A heavy-set unimaginative man who seldom entered into conversation with the children, he eyed them speculatively. But he said nothing and began to eat his eggs and thick strips of bacon. He ate slowly and methodically, keeping his eyes to the table. When he had finished his coffee, he settled back to light his pipe. He passed the match back and forth across the bowl with quiet deliberation. "Who's Mr. Maudsley and who's Mr. Trask?" His wife smiled. "Those are just the names the children have given the scarecrows." "What scarecrows?" "The one in our field and the one on Edmund's land." Mr. Tapping considered this while strong curls of strong tobacco smoke rose about him. "Why those names? Why not Brown and Smith?" "Because those are their names," explained Stella patiently. Mr. Tapping cogitated on the mysteries of the juvenile mind. Abruptly he remembered the section of pasture fence that needed repairing and got to his feet. But it was nearly noon before he got around to fence fixing, and then he had but one wire stapled when he heard a "halloo" and, turning, saw old Jason Southby hobbling across the field toward him. Jimmy, who was holding the wire for his father, let go the pliers and joined Stella who was trying to capture a bumble bee in a fruit jar. "Howdy," said old Jason, reaching the fence. "Got a couple of helpers, I see." Mr. Tapping smiled and nodded his greeting. "I came over to ask if you're goin' to post your property for no-huntin' this year."