The late moon was now coming up, so the roadway was lighter than it had been. Both Bart and Harry were tired because of all the tramping they had done, yet they did their best to keep up with the others. Jim Bowman led the way, taking strides that no one could have equaled. “He must know how to handle lumber,” whispered Harry to Bart. “Just notice how muscular he is.” “It is the constant outdoor life that has made him so strong, Harry.” On they went until the bypath was gained. The constable had brought along a lantern, but this was not lit, for the rising moon was making it lighter every minute. At last they halted and Harry gave a low whistle—a signal which had been agreed upon. A low whistle came in return, and almost immediately Joel Runnell came into view. He knew the constable by sight and Samuel Libby personally and nodded to them. “Haven’t heard anything more out of ’em,” he said. “I’ll guess they think I went away.” “Any light in the place?” asked the constable. “Yes, a candle light in the kitchen. I wanted to crawl up and take a peep inside, but thought I wouldn’t risk it, for fear they’d spot me and try to dust out.” After this the others were called up and a regular council of war ensued. Constable Peabody took charge, and he asked all to march up with him and surround the house. Then, taking Jim Bowman with him, he knocked loudly on the back door. “Who’s there?” asked a rough voice, and then the voice was changed to an imitation of Ike Slosson’s and the speaker continued: “Go away! I want no strangers here. Go away!” “Look here, this Tom-foolery won’t do!” cried the constable. “Open the door, or I’ll have it broken down.” At this there was an added commotion in the house. Two men came to a window and peeped out. “Hullo! there are half a dozen men out there,” muttered one. “And they have got guns,” growled the other. “Muley, I reckon de jig’s up.” “Who are you?” asked Noxy, the man at the door. “An officer of the law, and I demand that you surrender,” shouted Constable Peabody, pompously. “Boys, we must skip,” whispered the tramp called Stump. “If we don’t we’re sure to do time.” “Are you going to open up or not?” demanded the constable. To this there was no answer. “Jim, I reckon you had better try your strength,” went on the officer. The big lumberman was only too willing. He put his shoulder to the door and it went in with a crash. “Now come out of that, one at a time,” sang out the constable. “And remember, we are ten to three, so it won’t do you any good to fight.” “Are there ten o’ ’em?” gasped Noxy. “Shouldn’t wonder,” growled Stump. “That feller who was here before must have told the sheriff. Say, wot are we goin’ to do?” “Hang me if I know.” The three tramps stared blankly at one another. They were caught like rats in a trap. They tiptoed their way to the next room, and looked forth from the windows. “I see four men and boys,” said one.