"It's possible, but I don't believe it," said Foster positively. "If that was their game Mott wouldn't be here."
"Probably not," assented Will. "Let's begin again. We've no time to waste."
The freshmen now began to search in the loft of the barn. They seized the pitchforks that were in the mow, and, thrusting the tines into the hay, they continued their search, working with desperate determination and throwing the hay about them until the entire mow presented the appearance of having been almost completely overturned.
But not a trace of the missing canes could they discover. At last, satisfied that their efforts were vain, they ceased and for a moment stared blankly at each other.
"No use," said Will despondently. "They've made game of us this time, Foster, just as sure as you live."
"We won't give up yet, Will. Of course if the canes are here they were not put where we'd be likely to stumble over them. We've just got to think it out—"
Foster stopped abruptly as a voice was heard calling up from below. "I must bid you an affectionate and tearful farewell, freshmen. Keep on with your good work and remember that perseverance conquers everything. Even the best of friends must part—"
Foster and Will waited to hear no more, but both plunged down the ladder, but when they had gained the floor below it was to behold Mott speeding up the lane as if he was "sprinting" for life itself. For a moment the surprise and consternation of the two freshmen were so complete that both were speechless.
"Why didn't you take after him, Will?" said Foster, who was the first to break in upon the awkward silence. "What are you standing here for?"
"No use, Foster," replied Will, shaking his head. "He's got too good a start. I don't see how he ever got loose."