"And then we cut through a cornfield," went on Jack.
"Through a cornfield!" cried the farmer in accents of anger. "D'ye mean t' say you tromped through my field of corn?"
"I—I'm afraid we did," answered Tom ruefully. "We couldn't see in the dark, and it was the only way to come. I hope we didn't do much damage."
"Well, if ye did ye'll pay for it!" snapped the man, as he came from the doorway. "I don't allow nobody t' tromp through my prize corn. I'll have th' law on ye fer this, that's what I will! Knocked down my corn; did ye? Well, ye kin find th' road the best way ye like now. I'll never tell ye. And I want t' see how much damage ye done. You wait till I git a lantern. Tromped through my corn! That's jest like you good-fer-nothin' school snips! I'll fix ye fer this all right, or my name ain't Jed Appleby!"
CHAPTER X
A HAY STACK FIRE
Cold, wet and altogether miserable, Tom and his chums stood in the farmer's yard, waiting for they scarcely knew what. Their reception had been anything but cordial, and, considering that they were unaware that they had done any damage to the field of corn, it was almost unwarranted.
"Well, what do you know about this?" asked Bert, as he took off his cap and dashed the rain drops from it.
"I don't know much," replied Jack, dubiously as he turned the collar of his coat closer up around his neck.
"He's a cheerful chap—not," murmured George.