ht try to steal her in the excitement. Now I want
you to take good keer of her. Don't let 'er out o' your sight, an' don't
let anybody git 'er away from you. I'll keep my eye on her, too. Promise
me."

"Certainly, Mr. Crow. I'll look out for her. That's what I hope to do
all the rest of--'

"Somethin's liable to happen," Mr. Crow broke in, and then quietly
slipped away.

Bonner laughed easily at the old man's fears and set them down as a part
of his whimsical nature. Later, he saw the old man near the entrance as
the party passed inside the inclosure. The Bonner party occupied
prominent seats in front, reserved by the marshal. There were ten in the
group, a half-dozen young Boston people completing the house party.

The side walls of a pavilion inclosed the most beautiful section of the
grove. In one end were the seats, rapidly filling with people. At the
opposite end, upon Mother Earth's green carpet, was the stage, lighted
dimly by means of subdued spot lights and a few auxiliary stars on high.
There was no scenery save that provided by Nature herself. An orchestra
of violins broke through the constant hum of eager voices.

Anderson Crow's heart was inside the charmed inclosure, but his person
was elsewhere. Simultaneously, with the beginning of the performance of
"As You like It," he was in his own barn-loft confronting Andrew Gregory
and the five bewhiskered assistants from New York City. Gregory had met
the detectives at the Inn and had guided them to the marshal's barn,
where final instructions were to be given. For half an hour the party
discussed plans with Anderson Crow, speaking in low, mysterious tones
that rang in the marshal's ears to his dying day.

"We've located those fellows," asserted Mr. Gregory firmly. "There can
be no mistake. They are already in the audience over there, and at a
signal will set to work to hold up the whole crowd. We must get the
drop on them, Mr. Crow, Don't do that! You don't need a disguise. Keep
those yellow whiskers in your pocket. The rest of us will wear
disguises. These men came here disguised because the robbers would be
onto them in a minute if they didn't. They know every detective's face
in the land. If it were not for these beards and wigs they'd have
spotted Pinkerton's men long ago. Now, you know your part in the affair,
don't you?"

"Yes, sir," respectfully responded Anderson, his chin whisker wobbling
pathetically.

"Then we're ready to proceed. It takes a