Bob caught up the valise, Joe fastened the door by replacing the staple that had been pulled out of it, and the three boys struck through the evergreens toward the cow-path before spoken of, which ran from Silas Morgan's wood-pile to Mr. Warren's barn.
They were still much excited, and showed it plainly in their actions and speech.
Although they had no reason to believe that the robbers were anywhere near them, they did not forget to stop and listen now and then, and look along the path behind; and if a squirrel jumped from one tree to another, or the wind caused a sudden rustling among the neighboring bushes, they were prompt to drop their guns into the hollow of their arms and face in the direction from which the sound came.
"I declare I am as nervous as any old woman," said Bob, at length. "I act and feel as if I had been frightened half out of my wits, and yet I haven't seen a single thing."
"But you heard the robbers coming down the path, didn't you? And you know that they would be only too glad to have revenge on the parties who took their ill-gotten gains away from them," said Joe. "Now that I think of it, what right had we to touch this grip-sack?"
"We took it 'on general principles,' as the policemen say when they arrest a person against whom they have no evidence, but who they think is getting ready to do something he ought not," was Bob's answer. "If those men came honestly by the things that are in that valise, we are liable to get ourselves into a pretty pickle for laying hands on it; but I'll bet you anything you please that they'll not come down to Mr. Warren's house after their property. 'Cause why, they haven't a shadow of a right to it."
When the boys came within sight of the barn, they left the cow-path, crawled through a pair of bars, and turned into the wide carriage-way that ran around the house and past the front door.
Their vigorous pull at the bell brought out Mr. Warren himself.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to look surprised and to bring a frown to his jolly, good-natured face. "Is this what you young gentlemen are paid for—to run about the country, while the market-shooters slip up to those wood-lots and shoot all the birds?"
"If market-shooters were the only things we had to look out for, we'd have a fine time this winter," replied Bob, as the gentleman shook hands with him. "Do you see this grip-sack? Well, there's a tale hanging to it."