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He turned toward the doorway with Bridge, calling a goodbye to the woman, but

as he stepped out upon the veranda the dust of a fast-moving automobile

appeared about a bend in the road a half-mile from the house.

Too late," he said, turning to Bridge. "Here they come!"

The woman brushed by them and peered up the road.

Yes," she said, "it must be them. Lordy! What'll we do?"

I'll duck out the back way, that's what I'll do," said Billy.

It wouldn't do a mite of good," said Mrs. Shorter, with a shake of her head.

They'll telephone every farmer within twenty mile of here in every direction, an'

they'll get you sure. Wait! I got a scheme. Come with me," and she turned and

bustled through the little parlor, out of a doorway into something that was half

hall and half storeroom. There was a flight of stairs leading to the upper story,

and she waddled up them as fast as her legs would carry her, motioning the two

men to follow her.

In a rear room was a trapdoor in the ceiling.

Drag that commode under this," she told them. "Then climb into the attic, and

close the trapdoor. They won't never find you there."

Billy pulled the ancient article of furniture beneath the opening, and in another

moment the two men were in the stuffy atmosphere of the unventilated loft.

Beneath them they heard Mrs. Shorter dragging the commode back to its

accustomed place, and then the sound of her footsteps descending the stair.

Presently there came to them the rattling of a motor without, followed by the

voices of men in the house. For an hour, half asphyxiated by the closeness of the

attic, they waited, and then again they heard the sound of the running engine,

diminishing as the machine drew away.

Shortly after, Mrs. Shorter's voice rose to them from below:

You ken come down now," she said, "they've gone."

When they had descended she led them to the kitchen.

I got a bite to eat ready for you while they was here," she explained. "When

you've done you ken hide in the barn 'til dark, an' after that I'll have my ol' man

take you 'cross to Dodson, that's a junction, an' you'd aughter be able to git away

easy enough from there. I told 'em you started for Olathe--there's where they've

gone with the two tramps.

188

The Mucker