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88 "Is—er—is thet boy—er—" He could not finish.

"It was a wicked thing to do," put in Sam. "Any man that would shoot a boy ought to be lynched."

"Perhaps that crowd of men were coming up here," went on Tom. "Didn't they have a rope with them?"

"To be sure they had a rope, Tom. And one of 'em said something about hanging."

"What crowd are you talking about?" stammered Joel Fox, growing paler and paler.

"The crowd at the depot. Did you shoot him, Mr. Fox? I can't hardly believe it true, although I know you were mean enough to take my uncle's pears."

"I—er—the pears were on my property. I—er—I didn't shoot at any boy. I—er—I shot at some crows in my cornfield," stammered Joel Fox. "Did you say a crowd of men were coming over here with a rope?"

"You'll see fast enough, you bad man!" cried Tom, and ran off, followed by Sam. In vain Fox tried to call them back.

The boys went as far as a turn in the road, then hid behind some bushes. Soon they saw Fox pick up his tools and make for his barn. Then he came out and hurried for his house.