"No; I'll tell you what, let's catch him ourselves," suggested Frank.
"All right," assented Willy. "We'll catch him and lock him up; suppose he's got a pistol? your gun maybe won't go off; it doesn't always burst the cap."
"Well, your old musket is loaded, and you can hold him, while I snap the cap at him, and get it ready."
"All right—I can't find my jacket—I'll hold him."
"Where in the world is my hat?" whispered Frank. "Never mind, it must be in the house. Let's go out the back way. We can get out without his hearing us."
"What shall we do with the dogs? Let's shut them up."
"No, let's take 'em with us. We can keep them quiet and hold 'em in, and they can track him if he gets away."
"All right;" and the boys slowly opened the door, and crept stealthily out, Frank clutching his double-barrelled gun, and Willy hugging a heavy musket which he had found and claimed as one of the prizes of war. It was almost pitch-dark.
They decided that one should take one side of the hen-house, and one the other side (in such a way that if they had to shoot, they would almost certainly shoot one another!) but before they had separated both dogs jerked loose from their hands and dashed away in the darkness, barking furiously.
"There he goes round the garden," shouted Willy, as the sound of footsteps like those of a man running with all his might came from the direction which the dogs had taken.