"All of you know I've been a g-g-great h-h-hand to make m-m-machinery
take the place of h-h-hand power. What's the need of our s-s-staying
awake p-p-part of the night, even, if by cudgeling our brains we
c-c-could think up some g-g-good s-s-scheme that would answer the same
purpose?"

"I can see _you_ cudgeling your poor brains, all right, Toby," sneered
Steve, who apparently did not take a great deal of stock in the other's
ability for conceiving clever ideas: "and a pretty mess you'd make of
it, in the bargain. Take it from me, they're cudgeled enough as it is."

"That will do for you, Steve," said Max. "I understand just what Toby
means, and it's along the right line too. This is the age of progress,
and up-to-date people don't want to depend on the old-time methods that
were good enough for their grandfathers. Toby thinks one of us might
suggest a scheme whereby we could guard the fox farm, and at the same
time obtain our full quota of sleep. In other words, rig up a dummy to
stand our trick as sentry. Isn't that it, Toby?"

"J-j-just what I had in my mind, Max," snapped Toby; "and any silly
c-c-could easy see that."

"Sure, and the wise ones had to be told," chirped Steve, jauntily. "But
never mind arguing, Toby; it's all right, and I'm only joking. I get the
idea; and now, has any one a scheme on tap that would apply to the
case?"

Toby scratched his head as though he considered that, having been the
first to make the suggestion, it was up to him to say something, no
matter how.

"Well, there's the spring-gun trap, you know," he remarked, without once
stuttering, which fact proved that he was deliberately taking his time
about answering.

"What sort of arrangement do you call that, I'd like to know!" asked
Steve.

"S-s-say, you a hunter, and never heard about the s-s-spring-gun trap?"
exclaimed Toby, scornfully. "Well, I'll try to explain, if you give me a
little t-t-time, and don't r-r-rush me too much. You see, a gun is
f-f-fastened to the ground, and aiming along a certain avenue that the
intended thief has just g-g-got to use in c-c-coming up to the b-b-bait.
Then a c-c-cord is s-s-strung so the thief p-p-presses against the
s-s-same, just like Max here fixes his c-c-camera nights, when he wants
to s-s-snap off a skunk or a 'coon by flashlight. Well, the g-g-gun goes
off, and f-f-fills Mister Thief with number twelve birdshot. When you
hear the c-c-crash, and his howls, why, you just s-s-saunter out