For a good five minutes this brought forth no response, but presently Mike Marcy came forth from the farmhouse, lantern in hand, and stalked over to his barn. When he came out he carried a long rawhide whip in his hand.
"Say, boy, quit that noise, or I'll tan ye well!" he cried, wrathfully, as he came up to the smokehouse and set the lantern on the ground.
"Mr. Marcy, is that you?" queried Dave, quickly.
"Yes, 'tis, and I want ye to stop that racket."
"Let me out at once—it is very important," went on Dave.
"Important, is it?" sneered the Irish-American farmer. "'Tis more important ye stop that noise, so it is!"
"Mr. Marcy, listen to me," said Dave. "I have something very important to tell you. If you won't listen there will be big trouble. You must let me out, and both of us must catch two burglars."
"Sure, and what is the lad talkin' about?" exclaimed the farmer.
"I am telling you the truth. Let me out instantly."