"A tramp, perhaps," suggested Mr. Pertell.
"It might have been," admitted the young farmer, as he thought of the smashed lock on the bull's enclosure. "We sometimes have them fellers to bother us; but not so much in summer. They're afraid of bein' put to work."
The three men made a more thorough search of the barn, but could find nothing that looked suspicious.
"Whoever it was must either be here yet, in hiding, or else they got away while we were looking around," said Mr. Pertell. "Unless you believe in ghosts, Sandy."
"Nope. Not a ghost do I believe in. And I hope this won't spoil the barn for you folks to get your pictures from."
"Oh, no, it takes more than a noise to scare a theatrical troupe," laughed the manager. "Well, we'll have to give it up, I suppose."
There seemed to be nothing else to do, and the party returned to the house, the girls joining them on the way back.
"After all, it might have been some loose board, or plank, falling down. The place is nigh tumblin' t' pieces," declared Sandy. "But I'll keep a watch around. I don't want any tramps on this place."
"I might use one in a moving picture," said Mr. Pertell, musingly. What he could not use in a moving picture film was small indeed. "I believe that would make a good scene," he went on. "A tramp comes to beg at the farmhouse. He is told that he must saw a lot of wood, or do something like that. Then, let me see—yes, I'll have him eat first, and then refuse to saw the wood. He thinks the lady of the house is home alone. But he makes a mistake, for she proves to be one who has taken physical culture lessons, and she is a match for the tramp. She stands over him until he saws all the wood.
"That ought to go. I'll cast Mrs. Maguire for the strenuous lady, and Mr. Sneed can be the tramp. He has a sour enough face. That's what I'll do!"