The Rover Boys in Camp Part 3

"Ah! Of what variety?"

"_Cornus bustabus_, or something like that. Sam, what was the name, do you know?"

"That must be something like it, Tom," grinned the youngest Rover.

"Took two men to lift some of those potatoes," went on Tom calmly.

"Two men? Thomas, surely you are joking."

"No, uncle, I am telling nothing but the strict truth."

"But two men! The potatoes must have been of monstrous size!"

"Oh, not so very big. But they did weigh a good deal, no question of it."

"Think of two men lifting one potato!"

"I didn't say one potato, Uncle Randolph. I said some of those potatoes."

"Eh?"

"The men had a barrel full of 'em."

"Thomas!" The uncle shook his finger threateningly. "At your old tricks, I see. I might have known it." And then he stalked off to hide his chagrin.

"Tom, that was rather rough on Uncle Randolph," said Sam, after a laugh.

"So it was, Sam. But I've got to do something. This being boxed up, when one might be fis.h.i.+ng or swimming, or playing baseball, is simply dreadful," answered the other.

Just before the evening meal was announced Jack Ness came up from the barn, and sought out Randolph Rover.

"Found a man slinking around the cow-shed a while ago," he said. "He looked like a tramp. I wanted to talk to him, but he scooted in double-quick order."

"Humph! We haven't had any tramps here in a long time," came from Randolph Rover. "Where did he go to?"

"Down toward the berry patch."

"Did you follow him up?"

"I did, sir, but he got away from me."

"You must keep a close watch for those fellows," said Randolph Rover bluntly. "I don't want any of them getting in our barn and burning it down to the ground."

"You are right, Randolph," said Anderson Rover. "Make them keep away from the place by all means, Jack."

"I'll keep my eye peeled for 'em," answered the hired man.

The wind was now blowing a gale, causing the trees near the farmhouse to creak and groan, and banging more than one shutter. But the boys did not mind this, and went to bed promptly at the usual hour.

"A storm like this on land is nothing to one on the sea," was the way Tom expressed himself. "I don't like anything better than to listen to the whistling of the wind when I am snug in bed."

For the time being Sam and Tom were occupying a room in the L of the farmhouse, and d.i.c.k had a small bedchamber adjoining. The boys were soon undressed, and, having said their prayers, hopped into bed, and were soon sound asleep.

It was not until half an hour later that the older folks retired.

Anderson Rover was the last to leave the sitting room, where he had been busy writing some letters at the desk that stood there.

As he was about to retire he fancied he heard a noise outside of one of the windows. He drew up the curtain and looked through the gla.s.s, but could see nothing.

"It must have been the wind," he murmured. "But, somehow, it didn't sound like it."

As he stepped into the dark hallway an uneasy feeling took possession of him--a feeling hard to define, and one for which he could not account.

"I think I had better go around and see that all the doors and windows are properly locked," he told himself. "Brother Randolph may have overlooked one of them."

He walked the length of the hallway, and stepped into the kitchen and over to a side window.

As he had his hand on the window-latch he heard a quick step directly behind him.

He started to turn, but before he could do so he received a blow on the head from a club that staggered him. Then he was jerked backward to the floor.

"Silence!" muttered a voice close to his ear. "Don't you dare to make a sound!"

"What does this mean--" he managed to gasp.

"Silence, I tell you!" was the short answer. "If you say another word, I will hit you again!"

Having no desire to receive a blow that might render him totally unconscious, or, perhaps, take his life, Anderson Rover said no more.

He heard a match struck, and then a bit of a tallow candle was lit and placed on the edge of the kitchen table.

By this dim light the father of the Rover boys saw standing over him a tall man, beardless, and with his head closely cropped. One glance into that hardened face sufficed to tell him who the unwelcome visitor was.

"Arnold Baxter!"

"I see you recognize me," was the harsh reply. "Not so loud, please, unless you want that crack I promised you."

"What brings you here, and at such an hour as this?"

"I find it more convenient to travel during the night than in the daytime."

"The police are on your track."

"I know that as well you, Rover."

"What do you want here?"

"What does any man want when he has been stripped of all his belongings? I want money."

"I have none for you."