"Bless my windshield! I should say I had," exclaimed the eccentric gentleman, swinging around a corner at rather a fast clip.
"And has it to do with highwaymen?" asked Tom, much amused.
"Some of the same gentry, Tom," declared Mr. Damon. "I haven't any peace of my life, I really haven't!"
"Who is troubling you, sir?"
"Why, what nonsense that is, to ask that!" ejaculated the gentleman. "If I knew who they were I wouldn't ask odds of anybody. I'd go after them. As it is, I've left my servant with a gun loaded with rock-salt watching for them now."
"Burglars?" exclaimed Tom, with real interest.
"Chicken-house burglars! That's the kind of burglars they are," growled Mr. Damon. "Two or three times they have tried to get my prize buff Orpingtons. Last night they got me out of bed twice fooling around the chicken house and yard. Other neighbors have lost their hens already. I don't mean to lose mine. Want you to help me, Tom."
"Is that all that is worrying you, Mr. Damon?" laughed the young fellow.
"Bless my radiator! isn't that enough?"
"I know you set your clock by those buff Orpingtons," agreed Tom.