"That's right, Andy," assented Phil. "Whether or not, though, we can't go back out into the storm, and I doubt if anybody is anxious to tramp through two feet of snow to this place. We had better try and get a little sleep, hoping it will clear up in the morning." "All right," acceded Andy willingly, with a tired yawn. "I declare, my head aches with all these adventures and mysteries we are running into!" They took off their coats and shoes and placed them near the fireplace to dry. Then, each arranging a wooden pillow, they got as near as they could within the circle of warmth, and soon dozed into comfort and rest. The sun was shining through the south window of the house when Phil awoke and stirred Andy. Phil went into the shed, gave the horse a few oats he found at the bottom of their provender bag, and returned to the room with a little package containing some bread and cheese. "That's just an appetizer," observed Andy, smacking his lips over the light lunch. "Let's get on our way, Phil. I've got to reach a breakfast of some sort soon. We can't be very far from some traveled road. What is it, Phil?" he inquired as his companion, at the window, peering out, uttered a sharp ejaculation, and shook the sash to knock off some snow on its outside so that he could look out more clearly. "Andy," answered Phil quickly, "some one is coming!" "Coming here?" exclaimed Andy, springing to the side of his comrade. "Two men!" "I know them both," cried Phil. "Andy, sure as you live, those are the two men we had the trouble with near the town hall at Lowell." "We're in for it," said Andy, dreadfully excited. "They have followed us here." "Scarcely," dissented the more level-headed Phil. "Their coming here is of course an accident so far as we are concerned." "I guess you're right," said Andy. "It shows one guess correct, though. This is a rendezvous for the Britishers. Why wouldn't they come here? Now what are we going to do?" Phil could not readily reply. They stood watching the two men plowing through the snow at some distance. There was no question with Phil but that they were the same persons with whom he had experienced trouble at Lowell. "Get back from the window, Andy," directed the Boston boy. "They may see us." "Suppose they do? They are bound to, sooner or later, aren't they?" demanded his chum. "Well, we needn't invite our fate until it is closer upon us," philosophically observed Phil. "That's our chance," he continued. "Grab up your coat and shoes and bolt with me, Andy." Phil had run for the ladder leading to the attic. Andy followed him quickly. Once in the low loft overhead, Phil replaced the ceiling scuttle carefully. Andy crept away from it. "I say," he observed, "go slow. The beams are about six feet apart. The covering is only strips of tan bark, and they sag like slippery elm." "Steady, Andy, get directly over a beam as near as you can." "I'm fixed," reported Andy.