"Goin' to the fire!" cried Taddy.
"There isn't any fire, boy!"
"Yes, there is! Didn't ye hear 'em? They've been yellin' like fury."
"It's nothin' but Atkins's brush."
"That all?" And Taddy appeared very much disappointed. "I thought there was goin' to be some fun. I wonder who was such a fool as to yell fire jest for a darned old brush-heap!"
Ducklow did not inform him.
"I've got to drive over to town and git Reuben's trunk. You stand by the mare while I step in and brush my hat."
Instead of applying himself at once to the restoration of his beaver, he hastened to the sitting-room, to see that the bonds were safe.
"Heavens and 'arth!" said Ducklow.
The chair, which had been carefully planted in the spot where they were concealed, had been removed. Three or four tacks had been taken out, and the carpet pushed from the wall. There was straw scattered about. Evidently Taddy had been interrupted, in the midst of his ransacking, by the alarm of fire. Indeed, he was even now creeping into the house to see what notice Ducklow would take of these evidences of his mischief.