"Just listen to that!" gasped Tom. "Oh, the rascals!"
"And Uncle Randolph's prize stock chickens!" murmured Sam. "That must have made his heart ache!"
"I'll wager Aunt Martha was scared to death," added Tom. And Dick read on:
"Of course there was great excitement, and four of us, the detective, Ness, Pop, and myself, went after the rascals, leaving your Uncle Randolph to look after your aunt and the cook, both of whom were very much frightened. We hunted around until daylight, but without success. Then we went to the old mill in the auto, but the place was deserted. After that I notified the local authorities, and I have hired ten watchmen to guard the farm and every building on it. I have also sent for two more detectives, and I am hoping that, sooner or later, they will be able to trace the scoundrels and run them down."
"Does he say how he is feeling?" questioned Sam, as his brother paused in the reading of the letter.
"Yes, he says he is about the same, but that Uncle Randolph is very much upset over the loss of his chickens and wants to know if they hadn't better pay the money demanded."
"Oh, I hope they don't pay a cent!" cried Tom.
"So do I," added Sam. "But I don't want to see them blown up either," he continued, seriously.
"None of us want that," said Dick. "But I'd not give them a cent—I'd be blown up a dozen times before I'd do it!" he continued, firmly.
"Do they want us home?" asked Tom.