d seen.

"If the people are at home, an' we ask them to let us stay all night,
we'll be driven away; so s'pose we creep in there, an' at the first
show of mornin' we'll be off. It can't do any harm for us to sleep in
a barn when the folks don't know it."

The barking of a dog in the distance caused him to decide upon a
course of action very quickly, and in the merest fraction of time he
was inside the building, groping around the main floor on which had
been thrown a sufficient amount of hay to provide a dozen boys with a
comfortable bed.

He could hear some animal munching its supper a short distance away,
and this sound robbed the gloomy interior of half its imaginary
terrors.

Promising himself that he would leave the place before the occupants
of the house were stirring next morning, Seth made his bed by
burrowing into the hay, and, with Snip nestling close by his side, was
soon ready for another nap.

The fugitive had taken many steps during his flight, and, despite the
slumber indulged in by the side of the brook, his eyes were soon
closed in profound sleep.

Many hours later the shrill barking of Snip awakened Seth, and he sat
bolt upright on the hay, rubbing his sleepy eyes as if trying to prove
that those useful members had deceived him in some way.

The rays of the morning sun were streaming in through the open door in
a golden flood, and with the radiance came sweet odors borne by the
gentle breeze.

Seth gave no heed just at that moment to the wondrous beauties of
nature to be seen on every hand, when even the rough barn was gilded
and perfumed, for standing in the doorway, as if literally petrified
with astonishment, was a motherly looking little woman whose upraised
hands told of bewilderment and surprise, while from the expression on
her face one could almost have believed that she was really afraid of
the tiny Snip.

"Is that animal dangerous, little boy?" she asked nervously after a
brief but, to Seth, painful pause.

"Who--what animal? Oh, you mean Snip? Why, he couldn't harm anybody if
he tried, an', besides, he wouldn't hurt a fly. He always barks when
strange folks come near where I am, so's to make me think he's a
watch-dog. Do you own this barn?"

"Yes--that is to say, it has always belonged to the Morses, an' there
are none left now except Gladys an' me."

"I hope you won't be mad 'cause I came in here last night. I counted
on gettin' away before you waked up; but the bed was so