CHAPTER XXV.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

The boys listened in silence to what the farmers had to say. They realized at once the natural mistake the men were making. The chickens the owners of the camp had cooked had been stolen, and these four tillers of the soil supposed the members of the Zero Club guilty of the crime which had been committed.

Jack was the first to speak, and a faint smile showed itself around the corners of his mouth as he lowered his shotgun and began to explain the case.

“You are making a great mistake,” he said. “We know nothing of your chickens. We do not belong at this camp.”

“Tell thet to yeour grandmother!” retorted the foremost farmer. “I know better.”

“My friend speaks the truth,” put in Harry. “Our camp is away off on the shore of Rock Island Lake.”

“None o’ yeour darn yarns now!” growled another of the farmers. “If I an’t mistaken, yeou be the very feller I seed around the barn tudder evenin’!”

“You are mistaken. But I don’t wonder your chickens were stolen. We had all our traps taken, and we came here to get them back.”

“Gee shoo! Can’t thet boy tell a yarn, though?” chuckled the tallest of the farmers. “He must hev been a-makin’ it up fer fear we would cotch him!”

“It is no yarn!” retorted Harry, flushing up. “I am telling the plain truth. We are not the owners of this camp, and we know positively nothing of your fowls.”

“We are above taking chickens!” burst in Boxy. “We can shoot all the game we wish, and more.”

“So we can,” added Andy. “Do we look like chicken thieves?”

“Wall, I reckon a coon makes a good hen lifter!” laughed the smallest of the farmers, with a nod toward Pickles, which made the colored youth mad clear to his heels.

“Look heah!” he cried out, shaking his gun threateningly; “yo’ can’t consult me dat way, yo’ low-down white trash! A chicken lifter, indeed! Moah likely yo’ is one yourself!”

“What’s thet? Don’t yeou talk tew me!” roared the farmer, bristling up like a turkey cock. “Maybe yeou don’t know who yeou be a-talkin’ to?”

“I don’t know, nor care!” retorted Pickles. “I ain’t no chicken lifter, an’ if yo’ go fo’ to say so, yo’ll git yo’self into a big muss wid me!”

“Here, we’ve had enough talking,” put in the first man who had spoken. “Put down your guns, every one of you, and be quick about it!”

“I won’t put down my gun!” cried Jack. “And if you molest me, you will regret it, mark my words!”

“We are respectable boys from Rudskill, and you have no right to come here and threaten us,” added Andy.

“We’ll see,” growled the farmer. “What do you say?” he went on to his companions. “Shall we take ’em to Bagsville and have ’em up before Squire Riggins?”

“Thet’s the talk!”

“It will be a darn good lesson to other chicken thieves!”

“Sure, Seth; take ’em up!”

“Thet settles it, then, along yeou go, every one. Yeou kin do with yeour traps ez yeou please.”

“I’ll not budge a step!” replied Harry, firmly.

“Nor I! Nor I!” burst out the other boys.

“We’ll see!” howled the leading farmer, his face growing dark with ill-suppressed wrath. “You can’t defy the laws of the country, see if you can!”

“If you’ll only listen to reason,” put in Jack. “Perhaps we can prove----”

“Them air chicken heads ez enough for us,” burst out one of the farmers. “Thar’s the head o’ the best Leghorn I had!”

“You’ll come along with us, and right neow!” put in another. “No more plaguety foolin’ about it!”

The farmers came closer, and it looked as if there would be a struggle and possibly bloodshed.

But just then a call was received from up the valley, and looking in the direction, all saw a man striding along through the snow, a horsewhip in his hand.

As he drew closer, the boys saw that the new-comer was Josh Higginson, the man to whom they had given the deer meat.

“Have yeou got the fellers, boys?” he called out, to the other farmers.

“Yeou jess bet we hev!” replied the leader of the men on horseback.

“Why, by gum! ef it an’t the fellers thet give me the venison!” roared Josh Higginson, in amazement.

“Oh, Mr. Higginson, perhaps you can help us out here,” burst in Harry, quickly.

“Yes, you evidently know these men,” added Jack.

“Wall, I guess I do know ’em, seein’ ez how they are all neighbors o’ mine.”

“Say, Josh, do yeou know these ’ere fellers?” asked the leader on horseback.

“They air the fellers thet give me all thet venison yesterday--the boys ez shot them three deer in one lick.”

“They claim we are chicken thieves,” said Harry. “They believe we belong to this camp, while I told them our camping-place is away off on the shore of Rock Island Lake.”

“They told me their camp wuz over tew the lake,” said Josh Higginson. “An’ they air such good shots thet it an’t likely they stole the chickens at all.”

“We have a squirrel and a partridge with us,” went on Harry. “And here are a number of rabbits, too.”

“And we get all the chicken meat we want when we are home,” finished Boxy. “We didn’t come out here for that at all, and I wouldn’t touch either chicken or turkey just now, unless I was forced to. We are out solely to hunt and live on game.”

“I believe the boys speak the truth,” said Josh Higginson. “They look like an honest set of fellows.”

One after another the faces of the horsemen fell. They whispered for a while among themselves, and finally the leader turned to Harry.

“What’s this you tried to tell us about yeour traps bein’ stolen?” he asked.

In return Harry told their story, to which the others added such details as they saw fit. The tale took some little time, and the boys now found that they had five close listeners.

“Wall, thet’s the worst yet, ef it’s true,” said the leading farmer.

“An’ I guess it ez true,” burst out Josh Higginson. “Fer I saw them three fellers skulkin’ around my farm only this noon!”

“These are all our traps,” said Jack, pointing to the loaded sled. “Their traps are in the shelter yonder.”

“Then it’s likely they be coming back,” said the stout farmer. “Supposin’ we stay here an’ lay low for ’em?”

“Thet’s the talk,” put in another of the farmers. “An’ if those boys are honest they’ll stay with us.”

“We expected to get back to camp before dark,” replied Jack, slowly. “But I’m willing to stay if the others are. I would like to meet those three chaps.”

“So would I,” added Harry. “Let us stay.”

“We’ll stay and help you give them a warm reception,” said Boxy, with a look that made every one of the farmers laugh.

Josh Higginson had come out looking for a sheep that had escaped from his pen, and after a bit he left the crowd.

It was now growing dusk, and Harry suggested they leave the vicinity of the lean-to and hide behind some brush that was not far distant.

“If we remain here the owners of the camp may see us before they get very close and turn tail and run,” he said.

“But their things be here,” said one of the farmers.

“Perhaps they would rather lose those than be locked up for chicken stealing,” said Jack, and subsequent events proved that he was right.

A few minutes later the entire party withdrew to the bushes Harry had mentioned. Here the horses were tied to several trees, and a fire was built, at which those that felt cold proceeded to warm themselves.

An hour went by and still no one came near the lean-to. By this time it was quite dark, and the boys wondered what they should do if they were compelled to remain in the vicinity all night.

“I have it!” cried Andy. “We have our traps and can bunk in the lean-to.”

“That’s the idea!” said Boxy. “Won’t they be mad when they find we have taken possession?”

Jack was on guard at the edge of the brush, with one of the farmers, watching for the return of the camp’s owners. Presently a shout went up, followed by the discharge of a gun.

“Something is up!” cried Harry, as he hurried to the front, followed by the others.

“We seen one o’ the rascals,” cried the farmer, who held a smoking gun in his hand. “He was beyond yonder rocks!”

“And who do you suppose it was, boys?” exclaimed Jack, almost breathlessly. “Pete Sully!”