Yet there was nothing to be seen.
Chagrined, the detectives rose to their feet.
"Let's start a smudge," proposed Dillaby. "Maybe they're higher up the chimney and if they are, we can smoke 'em out."
As they heard the plan, the farmer and his son exchanged glances. The building of a fire would send the smoke into the ham room in such quantities that it would force the outlaws to leave it, yet they dared not protest and stared blankly at one another.
"I guess we've hit on the right place," chuckled Higgins as he noticed the woe-begone expressions on the faces of the two men. "Hurry and get kindling, some of you. Tell the boys outside to watch the top of the chimney and to send me word when they see a head appear.
"Jesse's bottled himself up good and tight this time!"
With their usual haste, the detectives were counting their eggs before they were hatched!
And with delightful forgetfulness of the many times gone by when they thought they had captured the desperado only to find that they hadn't, Dillaby and Jones rushed to get the stuff to start the smudge.
"Found 'em?" grunted Mrs. Prior, as the detectives burst into the kitchen in which all the intimate friends of the family were excitedly discussing the sensational turn in events.
"We think—we hope so," rejoined Dillaby.