“And now, I've got you,” declared Hiram, with confidence. “I can tell those ten poults. I marked them for Sister long ago so that, if they went to the neighbors, they could be easily identified.
“They're in that shut-up coop down yonder,” continued Hiram, “and unless you agree to bring them back at once, and put them in our coop, I shall hitch up and go to town, first thing, and get out a warrant for your arrest.”
Sam had remained silent for a minute, or two. Now he said, decidedly:
“You needn't threaten no more, young feller. I can see plain enough that Pete's been carrying his fun too far——”
“Fun!” ejaculated Hiram.
“That's what I said,” growled Sam. “He'll bring the turkeys back-and before he has his breakfast, too.”
“All right,” said Hiram, knowing full well that there was nothing to be made by quarreling with Sam Dickerson. “His returning the turkeys, however, will not keep me from speaking to the constable the very next time Pete plays any of his tricks around our place.
“It may be 'fun' for him; but it won't look so funny from the inside of the town jail.”
He walked off after this threat. And he was sorry he had said it. For he had no real intention of having Pete arrested, and an empty threat is of no use to anybody.
The turkeys came back; Sister did not even know that they had been stolen, for when she went down to feed them about the middle of the forenoon, all ten came running to her call.