“Is Jack Darrow anywhere around?” questioned Mr. Cook.
“Yes; just went over to yonder stable,” called back one of the hostlers. “Want to see him?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll call him,” went on the hostler, thinking there might be a chance to earn a dime.
“Never mind,” put in Carl. “Come on, Leo, we won’t give him a chance to run away.”
“That’s so; we won’t,” returned Leo, and followed the young juggler to the ground.
The stable pointed out was but a short distance down a lane, back of which flowed a good-sized brook. Making their way rapidly to the building, which was old and much out of repair, they entered the open doorway.
A sound in the rear greeted them.
“There he goes!” yelled Carl. “Stop, Jack Darrow!”
A muttered exclamation was the only response. They saw the good-for-nothing leave the barn and run for the brook.