my father, either," said Lester. "He'll help you, Mr. Owens."

"I was counting on him. When I send in the application, I'll have to
send a bond for a few hundred dollars with it."

"Father will go on it, if I ask him, and I will, for I'll do anything
to help Bob and beat that beggar, Dave Evans."

The conversation continued for an hour or more in this strain, and
when the boys had heard David and all his friends soundly abused, and
Bob had provided for the spending of every cent of the money he would
earn during the first year he rode the route, if his father succeeded
in obtaining the appointment for him, he and Lester went out to
attend to their horses and talk the matter over by themselves. Bob
was in ecstacies; and while he was counting off on his fingers the
various articles he intended to purchase with his wages, Lester
suddenly laid his hand on his arm.

"What's that?" said he, in a suppressed whisper.

Bob looked in the direction indicated by his companion, and saw a
dark figure creeping stealthily along the fence. His actions plainly
showed that he had no business there, and, as if moved by a common
impulse, the two boys dropped to the ground and waited to see what
he was going to do.

"It's some thieving nigger," whispered Bob. "If he lays a hand on
anything we'll jump up and catch him."

"Hadn't I better go into the house and call your father?" asked
Lester.

"O, no; you and I can manage him. Do you see those fence pickets over
there? Well, we'll sneak up and get one apiece, and then if he
attempts any resistance, we shall be ready for him."

The pickets, of which Bob spoke, were piled about twenty yards nearer
to the barn than the boys then were, and they succeeded in creeping
up to them and arming themselves without attracting the notice of
the prowler. The latter followed the fence until he reached a point
opposite the spot where the barn, corn-cribs and other out-buildings
were located, and there he stopped to survey the ground before him.
Having made sure that there was no one in sight, he moved quickly
toward the smokehouse and tried the door.

"I don't think you'll make much there, my friend," whispered Bob.
"That door is locked."

The prowler found it so, and after a few ineffectual attempts to
force it open by pushing with his shoulder against it, he faced about
and disappeared in the barn. While the boys were trying to make up
their minds whether or not they ought to run up and corner