"Say!" he gasped. "Why couldn't we sneak back there and let the derned ol' cats out! Then we'd lay low till they had time to get back to their homes—!"
They made their way out of their retreat, unmindful of the scratching thorns, and cautiously retraced their steps to the barn.
"I never heard 'em so quiet before," whispered Sube. "S'pose they're all asleep?"
"Prob'ly," replied Gizzard. "It must be awful late."
They lighted a stump of a candle that had been hidden away for just such emergencies, and ascended the dusty stairs. Horror seized them as they found their place of business in wildest disorder, with the cages upset and broken open and every cat gone. Through the flickering gloom they stared at each other dumbfounded, bewildered; their last faint glimmer of hope gone.
"Where do you s'pose—" faltered Gizzard, but he was unable to say more.
"Dan must've got 'em for proof!" groaned Sube.
"What'll we ever do!" snivelled Gizzard.
"Now I s'pose we got to beat it!" replied Sube in a voice husky with emotion.