"A thief?" said Bob. "How do you know?"
"Seed him myself with my own two eyes," quavered Old Davey, a little old man who was a pensioner of Mr. Hampton's. "He's a big dark ugly-lookin' feller. I seed him a-sneakin' into the house through the cellar door I left open to git out some garden tools."
"Then what did you do?" asked Frank.
"I run," said Old Davey, simply. "Leastways I tried to, but my legs ain't what they used to be."
"Come on, Bob," said Frank, impulsively. "Let's go see."
"Not till we tell Dad, first," said Bob, as always the cooler.
Re-entering the sending room, Bob once more gained the attention of his father, who still was in conversation with Mr. Hampton. He told him what Old Davey had reported. Mr. Temple readjusted the headpiece and swung about to the transmitter.
"Anything in your house a fellow could carry off in a pocket, Hampton?" he said. "Because the boys tell me there is a thief in it right now, and we're going up to try to catch him."
"I don't think so," said Mr. Hampton, and then added in a tone of alarm: "Great guns, Temple, yes. There is. There's a duplicate list among my papers that the Octopus would give anything to obtain possession of. It's a list of the lessees out here in the oil fields who have joined the independents."
"All right, Hampton," said Mr. Temple, "we're off."