“How’s this, Zeb?” asked his father, as Zeb came sleepily poking down the stairs. “I’m sure you went to bed early enough.”
“That’s it,” said Zeb. “The longer I sleep the better I seem to know how. If I keep on learning, I may be able to sleep a week, some of these long nights.”
“Get away with the cows, then. You won’t get any breakfast, now, till you come back. Hullo, there’s Dr. Dryer at the gate. What’s up now?”
Quite enough, one would think, and it was a very natural instinct which led the doctor to that particular house with his story.
Not a hoof had his red-headed errand-boy found in his lot back of his barn, that morning. Gate wide open. Cows gone, nobody knew whither.
“Something sure to happen in this place every time I oversleep myself,” exclaimed Zeb. “Do you think they’re stolen, Doctor, or did that little scamp of yours leave your gate open and let ’em run away?”
“Run away? Hope that’s all,” said the deacon.
“Have you looked for them?”
“Everywhere,” replied the doctor, who had been narrowly eying Zebedee.
The latter did not flinch a hair’s breadth, however, although he now seemed wide awake enough.