ld meet the three tramps who were creating no end of excitement
around the vicinity by their bold robbery of hen-roosts, and even
houses; or some desperate boys ready to fight when caught in a trap,
none of them knew.

They expected trouble of some sort, at least; Bristles was even counting
on it, and would be very much disappointed if it failed to come to pass.

But instead of a group of lads at bay, and ready to give as good as they
received, they discovered what seemed to be just two figures on the
floor of the mill. One of these jumped up, and faced them defiantly,
whirling a piece of flooring in a circle above his head.

"Keep back, you!" he cried, hoarsely.

"Why, if it ain't Gabe Larkins!" exclaimed the astounded Bristles, as
he managed to get a look at the face of the other.

Fred was himself astonished, for he had recognized the butcher's boy
about the same time Bristles did. Gabe here, and apparently concerned in
this abduction of Colon! It raised up a host of wild conjectures. Could
he be in the pay of those reckless Mechanicsburg fellows; or possibly
connected with Buck Lemington's crowd? Even a more sensational theory
flashed through Fred's mind, connected with the men who were looked upon
as thieves. Was Gabe in league with these desperate persons?

"Down him!" exclaimed Bristles, making a forward move, as though ready
to throw himself upon the taller boy without regard for what would
follow when Gabe brought that piece of floor board into play.

The rest were starting to follow his example, as it seemed to be the
only proper course, when to their astonishment there was a movement to
the figure lying on the floor, a kicking of a pair of long legs; and
immediately the well known voice of their chum, Colon, sounded:

"Hold up, boys, don't tackle Gabe; I tell you he's done me a good turn!"

Of course, at that, even the impulsive Bristles held his hand. Perhaps
he was not wholly sorry to declare a temporary truce, pending
negotiations for surrender; because that board had an ugly look, and
Gabe was waving it back and forth just as some players do their bat when
waiting to gauge the delivery of a new pitcher.

"Oh! it's you, fellers, eh?" Gabe remarked, as, bending forward, he
peered at the newcomers who had broken in upon him so suddenly; "call it
off, and we'll say quits. I haven't got any fuss with you."

He thereupon threw the piece of board down, as though that finished the
matter, so far as he