"It will take too long," said Dave, impatiently. "Even now it may be too late."
"Ye'll be safe enough with the doors and windows locked," said Mike Marcy. "Ye can use the shotgun if they come back. I'll take the pistol."
He was a man used to having his own way, and soon he set off with his pistol in his pocket and a good-sized club in his hand. Dave armed himself with another club, and set a good stiff pace, once they were on the road.
"We can stop at Brown's house and call him up," said Mike Marcy. He referred to Farmer Brown, who occupied a house directly on the road they were traveling. Reaching the place they knocked loudly on the door and presently the owner stuck his head out of an upper window.
"What's wanted?"
"Come down here," shouted Mike Marcy. "We want ye to help capture two robbers."
"Two robbers?" said Farmer Brown.
"Mercy sakes alive!" burst out the farmer's wife. "Are robbers around? We'll all be murdered in our beds!"
"They ain't here—they be over to the Widow Fairchild's," answered Mike Marcy. "Come on. Is Bill around?"
"Yes, here I am," said the farmer's son, from another window. "I'll be down in a minit, with my gun."