“Yes, madam.”
“All right, then he gave you a word.”
“Password!” whispered Zeph desperately.
“Sun and Moon,” ventured Ralph recklessly.
“Wrong!” cried the woman as quick as lightning. “I see your game. You’re guessing. If you don’t make yourselves scarce in two minutes, I’ll fire.”
She did not wait the limit. The fowling piece scattered skithering bird shot with a flare just as the intruders got out of range.
“She’s too keen for us--get to the barn, Ralph,” suggested Zeph breathlessly.
“Yes, run,” ordered Ralph.
They reached it, ran to cover and peered out. The woman, gun in hand, dashed from the house in the direction of a nest of small huts in the vicinity.
“She is going to rouse up some of her friends, I have not the least doubt,” observed Ralph. “Quick action, Zeph. That telegram said ‘barn loft!’”