“Come along then, boys,” said Bart, “Don’t let’s lose any time. It must be somewhere about the old French orchard. Hurry up!” and with these words they all started off. “De gracious!” cried Solomon. “Where you gwine to? You won’t find nuffin. Dem sorts ob tings don’t ’low derselves to be caught, mind, I tell you! Come back, chil’en, an finish yer dinna, an don’t go actin. An me’s been a cookin for you like all possessed. What’s to become ob an ole darky ef you won’t eat? Dis heah ain’t de proppa conduc fur de Bee See Double. I’ll frow up my office. I won’t be a Granpander any longer.” But the boys hurried away, and Solomon’s voice sounded upon the empty air. Thereupon he began collecting the dishes and eatables, and replacing them in his basket. Leaving Solomon thus, the boys hurried on in a state of great excitement. The mystery had thus far weighed heavily on all their spirits. In Bruce it may have been superstitious feeling which made it oppressive to him; but in the others it was the mortification of their retreat and panic, and the unpleasantness of not being able to account for the cause. The sounds, as far as they could judge, seemed to come from the old French orchard; but Bruce insisted that it issued from the woods. This formed the subject of loud debate among them as they went on. The majority, however, were against Bruce, and thought that it was farther away than the limit of the woods. “Can it be any of the boys, after all?” said Bart, as they went along the path. “Can Pat have in his possession any very remarkable kind of fish-horn or fog-horn?” “Pat? Nonsense!” said Arthur. “Do you think that any power of Pat’s could produce such a noise?” “O, I don’t know. He may have a private pocket steam engine, and occasionally let off steam to amuse himself.” “You’ll have to hunt farther than Pat,” said Bruce, seriously. “Why, man alive!” cried Bart; “you don’t think now that there’s anything in it--do you?” Bruce said nothing. They all hurried along the path, peering into the woods as they went on, and listening for a renewal of the sound. But there was none. At length they reached the gully, and, crossing it, they ascended the steep slope on the other side. This brought them to the old French orchard, and to the very cellar which had been the scene of their memorable midnight operations. Looking down into the cellar, they could see the traces of their work very plainly. They had filled in the hole as well as they could, but the ground bore visible marks of having been turned up. “If any of the fellows have been up here,” said Bart, “they must have noticed this.” “I don’t think that follows,” said Phil. “They wouldn’t notice it, in my opinion.” “O, don’t you believe that. The marks of digging there are enough to make any fellow notice them.” “Well, what if they do?” said Bruce. “They’ll never think that we had anything to do with it. So we needn’t bother our heads about that.”