At the time when she had decided it must be past midnight, there was an interruption. From the open doorway came a flash of electric light, like a tiny searchlight, which quested about the barn and came to rest on her and Billy. From the source of light a harsh voice said:
“Ah! ha! I've got you! Come out of that!”
Billy sat up, his eyes dazzled by the light. The voice behind the light was approaching and reiterating its demand that they come out of that.
“What's up?” Billy asked.
“Me,” was the answer; “an' wide awake, you bet.”
The voice was now beside them, scarcely a yard away, yet they could see nothing on account of the light, which was intermittent, frequently going out for an instant as the operator's thumb tired on the switch.
“Come on, get a move on,” the voice went on. “Roll up your blankets an' trot along. I want you.”
“Who in hell are you?” Billy demanded.
“I'm the constable. Come on.”
“Well, what do you want?”