The Gun Club Boys of Lakeport. Stratemeyer Edward

can they answer, father, if they ain’t there?” put in Teddy Dugan, with a broad smile on his freckled face.

      To this query the father made no reply, but advancing cautiously, he gazed into the barn and then stepped inside.

      “Are they there, Mr. Dugan?” queried Joe.

      “If they are, they’re mighty good at hidin’.”

      “Let us make a search,” said Harry. “Pat, you remain on guard outside.”

      “That I will,” answered Pat. “Run ’em out here till I shoot ’em first, an’ have ’em arrested afterwards!”

      The barn was speedily searched, but the tramps had taken their departure, and soon they discovered the track of the rascals, leading across the fields to another road.

      “I believe they left almost as soon as we did,” said Joe. “They knew we’d come back with help.”

      “Shall we follow?” asked Harry.

      “Av course,” replied Andy Dugan.

      “It’s getting rather dark,” went on Joe. “I’m afraid they have given us the slip.”

      The matter was talked over, and it was decided that all of the Dugans should go forward, and Joe and Harry were to follow if they could find the mare. If not, they were to tramp back to the Dugan homestead and await news.

      Half an hour was spent by the two boys in looking for the runaway steed, and by that time both could hardly walk.

      “I wish I was at the Dugan house this instant,” said Harry.

      “Ditto myself, Harry. And I wish I had my watch and chain back. Did you notice, the tramps didn’t touch the bags of nuts.”

      “I guess they were too excited to remember them. Maybe they thought we’d come back quicker than we did.”

      The boys rested for awhile at the barn, and then, with their bags of nuts on their shoulders, set out on the roadway once again.

      “Tired out, are ye,” said Mrs. Dugan, on seeing them. “Where are the others?”

      They told their story, to which she listened with many a nod of her head.

      “The ould b’y take that mare!” she cried. “Sure an’ didn’t she run away wid me wance an’ nearly scare me to death, so she did. Andy must trade her th’ furst chanct he gits.”

      She had prepared a hot supper and invited the boys to sit down, which they did willingly, for, as Harry expressed it, “they were hollow clear down to their shoes.”

      The meal was just finished when one of the little children, who was at the window gazing into the oncoming darkness, set up a shout:

      “There’s Kitty now!”

      “Who’s Kitty?” asked Joe.

      “Sure an it’s the mare. She’s walkin’ in the yard just as if nothin’ had happened at all!”

      The youngster was right, and by the time the boys were outside the mare was standing meekly by the barn door, waiting to be put in her stall.

      “Now ain’t she aggravatin’?” came from Mrs. Dugan. “Ye can’t bate her when she looks loike that, can ye? Poor Kitty! It’s a fool thing that ye are entoirely!” And she hurried out, opened the stable and let the mare find her proper place inside. “Fer sech a thrick, ye’ll git only half yer supper this night,” she added, shaking her fist at the animal.

      The boys knew that they would be expected home, and waited anxiously for news of the Dugans. Fully an hour and a half passed, before they came back, worn out and downcast.

      “They give us the shlip,” said Andy Dugan. “They came around be the lake road an’ thet’s the last we could find av thim.”

      “And I guess that’s the last of my watch,” added Joe, soberly.

      Andy Dugan had a faithful old horse in his stable and this animal he harnessed to his family carriage, an old affair that had seen far better days.

      “Ye can drive yerselves home,” he said. “An’ leave the turnout at Bennett’s stable. Tell him I’ll call for it to-morrow.”

      “Thank you, Mr. Dugan,” said Joe. “We’ll settle for the keeping, and get father to pay you – ”

      “That’s all right, Joe. I want no pay. Your father is a fri’nd av mine. I’m sorry we didn’t catch the thramps, that’s all,” was Andy Dugan’s reply.

      It was not until nine o’clock at night that Joe and Harry drove into the town of Lakeport. All the stores were closed, but the livery stable was still open, and there they left the horse and carriage, as Andy Dugan had directed. It was but a short walk from the stable to the house.

      “I thought you would be back to supper,” said Mrs. Westmore, when they entered. “I kept everything hot for over an hour.”

      “We’ve had an adventure, mother,” answered Joe, and as the family gathered around he told his story.

      “Oh, Joe, weren’t you awfully scared!” cried Laura.

      “I don’t like tramps at all!” piped in little Bessie.

      “This is certainly an outrage,” said Mr. Westmore. “So the Dugans could find no trace of them after they got on the lake road?”

      “No.”

      “I must have one of the constables look into this, and I’ll notify Sheriff Clowes, too.”

      “You can be thankful that the tramps did not injure you,” said Mrs. Westmore, with a shudder.

      “Yes, I am thankful for that,” said Harry.

      “So am I, mother,” added Joe. “Just the same, I’m downright sorry to lose that watch and chain.”

      “Perhaps we’ll get on the track of it. If not, we’ll have to see what we can do about getting you another,” added the fond mother.

      The fact that Joe and Harry had been held up by tramps was speedily noised around the town, and for the next few days the authorities and several other people did what they could to locate the evildoers. But the tramps had made good their escape, and, for the time being nothing more was heard from them. But they were destined to turn up again, and in a most unexpected fashion, as the pages to follow will testify.

      Joe and Harry had many friends in Lakeport, boys who went to school with them, and who played with them on the local baseball and football teams. All of these were interested in the “hold-up,” as they called it, and anxious to see the tramps captured.

      “Glad it wasn’t me,” said one of the lads.

      “I’ve got a gold watch – one my uncle left when he died.”

      “Why didn’t you punch their heads?” questioned another, who had quite a reputation as an all-around athlete. “That is what I should have done.”

      “Yes, and maybe got killed for doing it,” came from a third. “Joe and Harry were sharp enough to escape with whole skins, and that is where they showed their levelheadedness.”

      The adventure had happened on Saturday, and Monday found the boys at school as usual. They were so anxious to get news concerning the tramps that they could scarcely learn their lessons, but as day after day went by without news, this feeling wore away; and presently the incident was almost forgotten.

      It was customary at Lakeport to close the schools for about a month around the winter holidays and all of the pupils counted the days to when the vacation would begin. At last the time came, and with a whoop, Joe, Harry, and several dozen other lads rushed forth, not to return until near the end of January.

      “And now for Christmas!” cried Joe. Deep down in his heart he was wondering if he would get another watch and chain.

      Ice had already formed on Pine Lake, but just before Christmas it began to snow and blow heavily, so that skating was out of the question. This put