“I will, sir,” replied Jerry, promptly.
The young oarsman had not been over to Rockpoint since the races, but he thought he could go over and come back without encountering trouble.
The hay was soon loaded on the rick, and then Jerry started off for the other shore. He was compelled to drive nearly to the lower end of the lake to cross on the bridge, consequently it was well on toward the middle of the afternoon when Rockpoint was reached.
He and Mr. Dike put the load in the barn, and after being paid, and partaking of a glass of cold milk and a piece of home-made pie, Jerry, at just six o’clock, started on the return.
It had been a gloomy day, and, consequently, it was already growing dark, although it was midsummer.
But Jerry knew the way well, so he did not mind the darkness. He let the team go their own gait, and took it easy in the rick on a couple of horse blankets.
He was in a sort of day dream, when suddenly, his team was stopped by a couple of boys, who sprang from behind a clump of trees.
The boys wore masks over their faces, and when they spoke, they did their best to disguise their voices.
Jerry sprang up in alarm. At the same time four more boys, also masked, surrounded the hay-rick.
“What’s the meaning of this?” demanded Jerry. “Let go of those horses.”