"Don't that look queer? Both Tories? I should think they would be friends, he and old Bram, both being of the same stripe," observed Andy. "Yes, it looks puzzling, so I am going to try and fathom the mystery," replied Phil seriously. "There's the Bram farmhouse. We'll skirt it as near as we dare and see what's going on." "Something is going on right now!" declared Andy suddenly. "What's up I wonder?" At a break in the hills they came within a few hundred yards of the house where Jasper Bram lived. In front of it was a horse, and into its saddle a boy had just climbed. "That is Greg Bram," said Andy, peering attentively. "And that's his father," added Phil. The old man was gesticulating as if he were very much excited. He pointed to a stone shed back of the house and then in the direction of the town, and finally struck the horse that Greg rode a vigorous slap on the flank that sent the animal forward like an arrow. All the time the boys had been approaching nearer to the house. Their glance was now transferred to the stone shed behind the house, and fixed there. It was a low, strong structure with a heavy wooden door, and had windows crossed with iron bars. At one of these could be seen the figure of some one within, beating at the bars with a thick club and then trying to pry them apart. "That's our friend with the muskrat skin cap," said Andy. "He is a prisoner in there and is trying to break out. He can't make it. He has given it up." "No, he hasn't," corrected Phil, a minute later, while they kept advancing closer and closer to the scene. "He is putting shavings, splinters and kindling wood in the embrasure." "Aha!" cried Andy--"He has set the place on fire! See there, Phil, he is trying to make his way to liberty by burning out the wooden window sash." Old Jasper Bram had gone into the house and Phil and Andy had ventured to cross his domain from the road. They were less than a hundred feet from the farmhouse when Bram came out of it. The old man was making for the stone shed and had quite reached it, when he started back with a wild yell of the most positive excitement and alarm. Turning, he started a wild run--not into the house, nor near it, but squarely away from it--his face ashen and working with fear. His arms were thrown upwards in a sort of a desperate terror and his breath came in quick gasps. Thus, running, he nearly collided with Phil and Andy. He did not seem to recognize them, but shouted out. "Run--run for your lives! It's doom, it's death--blown--to--a--thousand pieces!" The boys just caught the echo of his disjointed sentences. Bram never halted nor looked to see if they were following him. He acted like a person bereft of his reason. Over a rise in the landscape he dashed and disappeared. "Well, this is sensational enough," exclaimed Andy. "Now, what does it all mean?"