As though to substantiate Budd's declaration, a singular thing happened within the house. There came a sharp exclamation that led the boys to again look through the window into the room. The man called Tom stood by the center-table, with Budd's Bible open in his hand, staring at the fly-leaf, and it was he from whom the exclamation had come.
"What's the matter?" asked his companions.
"I want you to read that name," he said savagely to them; and looking over his shoulder they read:
"Budd Boyd. From his mother, Mary Boyd."
"Well, what of it?" asked one of the men.
"He's the son of Henry Boyd," answered Tom, shrilly. "I knew he'd left Boston, but didn't suppose he had come down this way. We'd better leave before he gets his eyes on me."
"Why?" asked the same man who had spoken before.
"Because," answered the leader of the trio, "Tom played a little trick that sent the father to prison, where he is to-day, and he is afraid the son will take revenge on him should he catch sight of him."
Tom swore a fearful oath.
"Not if I know myself," he replied, fiercely. "Let me see the son, and I'll serve him worse than the father. All I fear is he may see me and recognize me; then the little job we contemplate will have to be given over. He'd set the authorities to watching us, and the sooner we got out the neighborhood the better."