"All gone?" queried Mike Marcy.
"Every dollar!" groaned the widow. "Oh, the rascals, the heartless villains! To rob a poor widow in this fashion! And I worked so hard to save that money! Oh, where are they? I must catch them and get my money back!" And she stalked around the room wringing her hands in her despair.
"What a pity that we got here too late," said Dave. "I wish you had hurried more," he continued to the Irish-American farmer. "I told you not to waste time."
"Don't ye blame me for this!" replied Mike Marcy, half in alarm and half in wrath. "I hurried all I could."
"Let us make a search for the rascals," said Joel Burr. "They may not be very far off."
"It won't do any good," announced Farmer Brown. "We've been around here too long a-looking for 'em."
"Yes, they're a long way off by this time," said his son Bill. "With four hundred dollars in their pockets they won't let no grass grow under their feet."
"This is the third robbery inside of six weeks," was Joel Burr's comment. "Must say they be getting mighty free-handed."
In spite of what had been said, all went outside and took a look around the grounds and up and down the highway. But it was useless; not the least trace of the burglars could be found anywhere about.