He started for the door, but the professor held him back. "Let Andy go," he said. "He will make less noise than any of us." He looked at the old hunter and nodded. Andy understood, and, taking his gun from a corner, slipped out of a side door, making no more noise than a cat. The others, left in the living-room, waited in silence. They could hear the stealthy footsteps, which, however, seemed now to be moving away. "I wonder who or what it can be?" murmured the professor. "This is the second time some one has been sneaking around here. I don't like it." "It does look suspicious," admitted Jack. "Do you suppose the man you spoke of, Mr. Roumann, who you thought might try to discover your secret, has traced you here, and is endeavoring to steal it?" "No, I hardly think so. I took good care to conceal my movements, and not even my closest friends know that I am here with Professor Henderson, making a projectile, the trip of which will astonish the world. No, I think this must be some other person." "It's a pusson after mah chickens!" insisted Washington. "If yo'll allow me, perfesser, t' project mahself inter de promixity of his inner consciousness--" "No, you just stay here," decided Mr. Henderson. "You might get into trouble if you went out and tried conclusions with a thicken thief, which I suppose is what you are trying to say you want to do." "Dat's what I did say, perfesser." They could no longer hear the footsteps, but the silence of the night was suddenly broken by the report of Andy's gun. "There! He's shot at him!" cried Jack. "I hope he disabled dat chicken stealer!" yelled the colored man. "Anybody what'll steal chickens--" "Hush!" commanded Mr. Henderson. Another shot rang out, and then the sound of footsteps could be heard. "He's running past here," called Jack, hurrying to the door. He caught sight of a dark figure rushing past, and was about to follow, but the outline was immediately lost in the darkness, and Jack that it would be a useless move. Andy came up. "Did you hit him?" cried Jack "No. I only fired over his head," replied the old hunter. "Who was it?" "I don't know, but it was some man prowling around, and for no good purpose, I take it." "Did he steal any ob my chickens?" asked Washington. "No; he wasn't near the coop." "I guess it was only a tramp," said Mr. Henderson. "I hope he doesn't go near the machine shop," added Mr. Roumann. "Still, if he did, the two machinists sleeping there would hear him." They returned to the room, and Andy stood his gun in a corner. The weapon was seldom far from him. "What was he doing when you saw him?" asked Mr. Henderson. "Just sneaking along the window here as if listening." "Maybe he was trying to hear what we were talking about," suggested Jack. "Or trying to discover my secret," added Mr. Roumann quickly. "Fortunately I never talk about the secret of the power. But I shall be anxious about the machine shop."