The lunch was almost over, and most of the corn had disappeared, when an elderly man, evidently a farmer, crawled through the fence near where Dick's company was. There was an angry look on his face.
"Which of you lads stole my corn?" he demanded. "And besides that you trampled down a lot. Who done it? That's what I want to know."
There was no need to answer. The evidences of the stolen corn were all about.
"I'm going to report this to Colonel Masterly," said the farmer, striding off toward where the superintendent was talking to the two majors.
CHAPTER XIII
A NARROW ESCAPE
"Hold on!" cried Dutton, springing to his feet. "Wait a minute, Mr.—er—Mr.—"
"No, you can't come any game like that over me!" cried the angry farmer. "You stole my corn, and trampled a lot of it down. That's agin orders, an' I know it. I'll report to your superior officers, and we'll see how you'll like it."
"But—er—but I say—" stammered Dutton, wishing he could do something to placate the man, for he knew that all the blame would fall on him, and that he would be severely dealt with; perhaps reduced to the ranks.
"No. I'll not listen to you," replied the farmer. "I'm going to report to Colonel Masterly."