"Fire away--I'm yours truly."
"Can you get word for me to my friend, Van Sherwin?"
"Sure."
"To-night?"
"At any and all times. We arranged that with the road detective."
"Very well," said Ralph. "I want you to deliver a note to Van. It will take some time to write it, so you will have to come up to the house with me, and wait till I get it ready."
They proceeded forthwith in the direction of the Fairbanks homestead. Ralph invited his companion to stay to supper.
"Say," observed Slavin, as they had proceeded on their way some distance and he took a last backward glance at the dying flames--"say, Ralph Fairbanks, I wonder if it looks to you--that fire I mean--like it does to me?"
"How do you mean, Slavin?" questioned Ralph.
"That some of old Gasper Farrington's chickens are coming home to roost!"