At any other time the ludicrous side of this situation would have appealed to Patsy, but just now he had his hands too full to consider it.
Cricket had run into the barn, and the detective sprang to the door through which he had vanished.
Just as Patsy reached the barn the bulldog, Tige, became a factor in the case.
The dog was not so easily scared as the farmer and the rest of the household, and didn’t care particularly who he tackled, just so long as he tackled somebody.
It happened that he came up with Patsy, as the latter was about to leap into the barn, caught him by the tails of his coat and pulled him backward.
The instant Patsy recoiled, a pitchfork cleaved the air in the exact place his head had been an instant before.
The detective grabbed the fork, wrenched it out of Cricket’s hands, and turned.
“Good dog!” cried Patsy. “But that’s enough of it,” and he brought the handle of the fork around with terrific force.
Tige was a bulldog, but he was sensible, and realized when he had enough.
He was knocked end over end, and when he picked himself up he raced for the corn crib and tried to get inside with the hired man.