“Not so fast!” he sang out. “We want what you have in your pockets first!” Cut off from escape by the window, the two boys turned around. They now saw that the doorway was unguarded, and ran for the opening with all speed. Harry reached the door first and tumbled it aside, and both ran into the open. “Stop!” yelled Noxy. “Stop, or we’ll fix ye!” And then, his foot catching in a loose board of the flooring, he pitched headlong, and Stump and Muley came down on top of him. “Run, Harry, run, or they’ll catch us sure!” cried Joe. Harry needed no urging, and in a minute the two lads were on the roadway once again and running harder than they had ever done in any footrace. For the moment they forgot how tired they had been, and fear possibly gave them additional strength. “Ar—are the—they coming?” panted Harry, after quarter of a mile had been covered. “I don’t—don’t know!” puffed his brother. “Do—don’t se—see anything of ’em.” “What mean rascals, Joe!” “Yes, they ought to be in jail!” The boys continued to run, but as nobody appeared to be following they gradually slackened their pace and at length came to a halt. “Joe, I’m almost ready to drop.” “So am I, but we had better not stop here. Let us keep on until we reach some farmhouse. I’m going to get back my watch and chain if I can.” “And the nuts. Think of losing them after all the trouble we had in gathering them.” “Yes, Harry, but the watch and chain are worth more than the nuts. If you’ll remember, they were my birthday present from father.” “Oh, we’ve got to get back the watch and chain. Come on—the sooner we find a farmhouse and get assistance the better. More than likely those tramps won’t stay at the barn very long.” Scarcely able to drag one foot after the other, the two Westmore boys continued on their way. The snow had now stopped coming down, yet the keen fall wind was as sharp as ever. But presently the wind shifted and then they made better progress. “I see a farmhouse!” cried Harry, a little later. “Not much of a place,” returned his brother. “Yet we may get help there,—who knows?” When the cottage—it was no more than that—was reached, Joe knocked loudly on the door. “Who is there?” came in a shrill voice from inside. “Two boys,” answered Joe. “We want help, for some tramps have robbed us.” “I can’t help you. The tramps robbed me, too—stole two of my best chickens. I’m an old man and I must watch my property. You go to Neighbor Dugan’s—he’ll help you, maybe.” “Where is Dugan’s place?” “Down the road a spell. Keep right on an’ you can’t miss it.” And that was all the boys could get out of the occupant of the cottage. “He must be a crabbed old chap,” was Harry’s comment, as they resumed their weary tramp. “Well, an old man can’t do much, especially if he is living all alone. I suppose he’s afraid to leave his place for fear the tramps will visit it during his absence,” and in this surmise Joe was correct.