The moment he was on his feet, however, he drew from his pocket the electric spotlight he had supplied himself with, and flashed the ray about the shed.
"Good! here's either one you want—pickax or mattock," were the words he whispered to Ruth.
"Which do you suppose he would like best?"
"A mattock is more practical, I believe," said Tom. "'Maddox,' they call it. We had a fellow working for us once who called it a 'mad-ax.' It has a broad blade and can be used to chop as well as dig."
"Never mind giving a lecture on it," laughed Ruth, very softly, "hand it out."
Tom chuckled and did as he was bid. In a minute he was with her and picked up the heavy implement.
"I hope they don't come hunting for us," said the girl of the Red Mill, breathlessly.
"We must take that risk. Come on, Ruth. Or do you want me to take it down to the brookside alone?"
"I want to go along, too. Oh, dear! I do hope he will find it."
"I have another cracker box full of food for him," said Tom. "I reckon he will be on the lookout for the pick, so he'll find the food, too."