"Bats?" queried Tom, in wonder.
"In the chimney," whispered Ruth. "Listen!"
The stir and squeaking of the bats were audible. Enough rain had come in at the top of the broken chimney to disturb the nocturnal creatures.
"Just the thing!" giggled Tom, seeing what Ruth would do. "Frighten them to pieces!"
The girl of the Red Mill had secured the stick she used before. She pulled aside the "stopper" of newspaper and thrust in the stick. At once the rustling and squeaking increased.
She worked the stick up and down insistently. Scale from the inside of the chimney began to rattle down to the hearth below. The voices ceased. Then the men were heard to scramble up.
The bats were dislodged—perhaps many of them! There was a scuffling and scratching inside the flue.
Below, the men broke out into loud cries. They shouted their alarm in the strange language the girls had heard before. Then their feet stamped over the floor.
Tom ran lightly to the window. He saw a bat wheel out of the window below, and disappear. The rain had almost stopped.
It was evident that many of the creatures were flapping about that deserted dining-room. The two ruffians scrambled to the door, through the entry, and out upon the porch.