Jimmy was quite certain that this speaker was Hoke Simpkins.
"Yaas, it might," said the other, meditatively; "that big winder at the end of the hall."
"Folks say there's piles o' silver and things worth a heap o' money. How I'd like to get holt on it!"
And Jimmy knew that Farmer Bagstock had spoken.
"Don't see why we can't cut out a pane right under the ketch. Then we c'n raise the winder in a jiffy."
"Waal, it might do that way," answered Bagstock. "What d'ye say to next Monday night? That ain't too soon, be it?"
Hoke said he thought not.
"Then," went on the farmer, "we want dark lanterns, and," with a chuckle, "I don't think an old meal-bag or flour-sack 'u'd be onhandy. We could git there about nine, cut the pane aout, then go off fur a spell, fur if any one was a-lookin' it 'u'd throw 'em off the scent. After a consid'able space we could sneak back and git in. Thar, how's that for a scheme?" he finished, triumphantly.
"Fine," said Hoke, admiringly. But he added, rather slowly, "Folks say old Beverley's spook's around there, y'know, but I ain't afraid, be you?"
"Spooks!" laughed Bagstock, scornfully. "They ain't no sech thing. Ef there was, they couldn't hurt us."