"Say, I thought you didn't go on guard until five o'clock, Dick," remarked Greg drowsily.
"I didn't, but it's seven, now," Dick laughed. "It'll be broad daylight in a few minutes more. Move! Get a hustle on!"
Hen Dutcher, though awake, didn't stir. Greg and Harry Hazelton soon tumbled out of their bunks. Then something odd dawned upon them.
"Where are the rest of the fellows?" questioned Greg. "I don't see Dave, Tom or Dan."
"You should have long range vision to see them," smiled Dick. "They've been gone nearly an hour."
"Gone? Where?" Harry wanted to know.
"To the nearest house—for help."
"Help against what?" This from Holmes.
"Greg, the shack behind us had a tenant last night," Dick went on rapidly. "Mr. Fits was in the shack. At a little after five this morning I saw him as plainly as I now see you. He was standing by the nearest window of the shack, and there were sparks traveling up the chimney."
"How on earth did you see him?" demanded Harry. "Did you shove a shutter back?"