“‘Too far.’
“Well, who says ‘I spy,’ then?
“This suggestion was well received, and I, who had made it, proceeded to count off, one dropping away every time until the last, who happened to be Bob Andrews—poor fellow, he was shot at Antietam!—was ‘It,’ and was posted against the tree with his eyes covered.
“‘Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty—I’m comin’ when I get to three hundred!’ he shouted, as we scattered in all directions.
“At first I made for a low wall near the house, and had hardly time to gain it when Bob gave a flourish, and with a loud ‘Three hundred—comin’!’ started for his prey.
“Peeping through a crevice in the wall, and finding he was coming in my direction, I hurriedly glanced about for a new hiding-place.
“At that moment a red squirrel bounded lightly along the tops of the stones, and disappeared in a crevice between two boards of the barn.
“Instantly I followed the hint. Creeping on my hands and knees, I soon reached the corner of the old gray building, and a moment later was in the centre of the mow, burrowing down out of sight, until I was pretty confident that it would take a smarter boy than Bob Andrews to find me that time.
“It was remarkably comfortable in that mow. The hay was fresh on top, and although I had reached the under layer of last year’s crop, I took care not to disturb it much, so that the dust did not trouble me. I could hear the shouts of the boys as they were discovered, one after the other, and the complaining tones of Bob, who, to my great satisfaction, was ransacking every nook and corner of the place except the right one.
“A couple of swallows flew in and out over my head, twittering softly. Perhaps they were returning for a last look at their old home, for it was almost time they were away.