A Young Hero; Or, Fighting to Win

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

His recourse suggested itself the next minute—he had only to climb the fence and move around them.

At this point there was a meadow on each side of the highway, without any trees near the road, so that great care was needed to avoid observation, but in the starlight night Fred had little doubt of being able to get by without detection.

Very carefully he climbed the fence, and, dropping gently upon the grass on the other side, he walked off across the field, peering through the gloom in the direction of the rock by the roadside, whence came the murmur of voices.

The boy was so far away that, as yet, he had not caught a glimpse of the others, but when he stopped at the point where he thought it safe to begin to approach the road again, one of the parties gave utterance to an exclamation in a louder voice than usual.

Fred instantly recognized it as that of Cyrus Sutton, the cattle drover, who had formed such a strong friendship for Bud Heyland.

"I'll bet that Bud is there, too," muttered Fred, moving stealthily in the direction of the rock; "they are always—halloo!"

In imitation of the loud voice of Sutton, the other did the same, and in the still night there could be no mistaking it; the only son of Michael Heyland was sitting at the roadside, in conversation with Cyrus Sutton.

It was natural that Young Sheldon should conclude they were discussing the subject of the robbery, and he was at once seized with the desire to learn what it was they were saying, for, more than likely, it would throw some light on the matter.

Fred had been taught by his mother that it was mean to tell tales of, or to play the eavesdropper upon, another, but in this case he felt warranted in breaking the rule for the sake of the good that it might do.

Accordingly, he crept through the grass toward the highway until he caught the outlines of the two figures between the fence rails and thrown against the sky beyond. At the same time the rank odor of tobacco came stealing through the summer air, as it floated from the strong briar-wood pipe of Bud Heyland.