“This is a good place to put on our disguises, fellows,” said one of the intruders, in a low tone. “In ten minutes more we shall be rich men. All we have to do is to act quickly and silently, and the money is ours.”

As he spoke he drew from his pocket something that looked like a piece of cloth, and, after shaking out the folds, he went through with some manipulations, which Bob, owing to the darkness, could not distinctly see.

The others followed his example, and when one of them stepped into plain view in front of the open door, Bob saw that his face was concealed by a bag drawn over his head.

“What in the world is the meaning of that, I wonder?” soliloquized the silent watcher, who was utterly bewildered by these strange proceedings. “It looks suspicious, to say the least. It’s a lucky thing for Dick and me that I didn’t speak to them; and in order to be on the safe side—”

“Listen! listen!” suddenly exclaimed one of the intruders, in an excited whisper.

The speaker and his companions instantly became as motionless as so many blocks of wood, and Bob Howard held his breath in suspense.

He had tried to draw his gun toward him, intending to put a cartridge into each barrel, and so prepare himself for any emergency that might arise.

The rustling he made in the hay, slight as it was, reached the ears of one of the intruders and alarmed them.

“I was certain I heard something,” continued the latter, in the same cautious whisper.

“No doubt you did,” replied one of his companions, with some impatience in his tones. “I have heard something ever since I have been in the barn. I have heard horses stamping and the cows eating their hay.”

“But I heard something else—I know I did. It was a faint, rustling sound—”

“Oh, come now! We have heard enough of that. You are altogether too chickenhearted for this business, Benson. How will you act when you get on the plains, among those—”

“Careful! careful! That is not my name.”

“Well, young Jesse James, then, if that suits you any better! But I must say that if your prototype were here, he would be ashamed of you.”

“I have just as much right to take that name as you have to take the name of Wild Harry,” was the spirited retort.

“I can’t see it! I have always done my share of work, without any croaking; and you haven’t. Mark my words! If we ever get into trouble, it will be through you, and nobody else.”

“That will do, boys!” said the third member of the party, who had not spoken before. “Don’t let’s have any quarreling. If we are ready, let us be moving. The sooner we begin, the sooner we shall get through with it.”

“I am ready,” said the one who had done the most of the talking, and whose voice seemed strangely familiar to Bob. “Now, remember that this night’s work is going to be a test of our courage. If we can’t make it successful, we have no business to think of going out West. Stebbins and his wife are as deaf as posts, and if we move with due caution they will not know that we have been in the house until we are out and gone. If they chance to wake up—well, we all know what to do in that case.”

The speaker led the way out of the barn, and he and his companions moved toward the house with stealthy footsteps, leaving Bob Howard trembling all over with excitement and alarm.

As soon as he was certain that they were out of hearing, he laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder and shook him gently.

“Dick! Dick! Wake up here!” said Bob, in a suppressed whisper. “Do you hear me, Dick?”

Yes, Dick heard him, but he didn’t want to wake up. He was too tired. He muttered something in reply, and rolled over to find an easier position.

“I say, Dick, wake up here!” repeated Bob, throwing more strength and energy into his efforts. “There’s robbery going on!”

“Who cares?” said Dick, drowsily. “I haven’t got anything worth stealing.”

“But Mr. Stebbins has,” urged Bob, retaining his hold of his companion’s shoulder and rolling him from side to side, in spite of the latter’s efforts to shake him off. “He’s got a lot of money in the house—the money that George Edwards told us about, you know—and three robbers have come here to get it. You’ve come to your senses at last, have you?” he added, as Dick straightened up, with an exclamation of astonishment.

Seeing that he had succeeded in making his friend understand the situation, Bob proceeded to give a hurried account of what he had seen and heard during the last few minutes, adding a piece of information that fairly stunned the listener.

“The voice of the one who had the most to say, and who seemed to be the leader of the gang, sounded wonderfully like Arthur Wallace’s,” said Bob, “and he called one of his companions ‘Benson!’”

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Dick. “It couldn’t have been Jim Benson?”

“Answer the question for yourself,” replied Bob. “All I know about it is this: Whoever they are, they have been engaged in business of this kind before to-night, and when they are out on their raids, they drop their own names and answer to others. One of them, the timid one, is young Jesse James, and the leader is Wild Harry. Who the third one is, I don’t know; but I would almost swear that his right name is Will Forbes.”

“It can’t be possible!” said Dick. “Do you suppose that any of our academy boys—Bob Howard, you have been asleep and dreamed it all!”

“Have I, though? Dare you go out of the barn with me and see for yourself? If we don’t find some robbers about that house I will give in, and admit that I fell asleep without knowing it.”

The answer that Bob received to this challenge was the click of Dick’s gun as he opened the spring and released the barrels. He pushed a cartridge into each chamber, buckled his belt about his waist and crept toward the ladder, Bob following silently after him, and marvelling greatly all the while.

The boy who was afraid to camp all night in the woods without a fire, even though he knew that there was nothing there that could harm him, was brave enough to face a party of robbers, who would doubtless fight to the death rather than allow themselves to be captured.

Having felt their way down the ladder, the two boys went to the door and looked cautiously out of it. A single glance was enough to satisfy Dick that his companion had not been dreaming. There were three dark forms standing in the shadow of the wood-shed.

They had made good progress with their work, for just as Dick thrust his head out at the door, the shutters that protected the window swung noiselessly open, and a minute later the window itself was heard to slide back from its place.

“They are robbers, sure enough,” whispered Dick, excitedly. “What shall we do now? Rush out there and try to take them?”

“By no means!” replied Bob, who, judging the marauders by the desperadoes that were so common in his own country, considered that the attempt would be foolhardy in the extreme. “They are armed, of course, and they would shoot us on sight. Let’s drive them away. That’s all we can do.”

There was no time to discuss this proposition, for while Bob was speaking one of the robbers clambered through the window. The others were about to follow, when they were frightened almost out of their senses by the roar of a fowling-piece behind them, accompanied by a shower of bird-shot, which rattled harmlessly among the chips at their feet.

They stood silent and motionless for a moment, and then another report and a second charge of shot completed their discomfiture.

The two who were on the outside of the wood-shed took to their heels in short order. The one on the inside came out of the window with such haste that he missed his footing, and measured his length on the ground, and soon all three of the robbers darted around the corner of the house and disappeared.

“There!” said Bob, with a sigh of satisfaction. “We have done one good deed if we never do another as long as we live. We have saved the old man’s money, but I don’t suppose we shall get ‘Thank you!’ for it. Let’s go and shut that window.”

It was a fortunate thing for the two boys that Bob thought of this, and they found it out presently.

While they were walking across the yard toward the wood-shed, a window in the main part of the building was cautiously raised, a stream of fire issued from the opening, a report, like that of a small cannon, rang out on the air, and a handful of buckshot went whistling toward the barn.

“The old fellow was prepared to defend himself, wasn’t he?” said Dick. “A charge from that blunderbuss would clean out a dozen robbers.”

Then raising his voice, he called out:

“No use in wasting any more ammunition, Mr. Stebbins. They are gone.”

“There’s no use in wasting your breath in that fashion, either,” said Bob. “He’s so deaf he can hardly hear it thunder. Come back into the barn and let the window go.”

“Hold on!” replied Dick. “Perhaps he will come out, so that we can explain matters to him.”

“No, he won’t,” said Bob, earnestly. “He is frightened half to death, and he will not show his head before daylight. It would be dangerous for his most intimate friend to come near the house now, for he will stand guard at that window, and shoot at every living thing he sees, without stopping to ask questions.”

It was with a good deal of reluctance that Dick consented to follow his friend’s advice, for he thought it looked like a confession of guilt on their part; but he did follow it, and he afterwards learned that it was the very best thing he could have done.

If he and Bob had attempted to approach the house in order to explain matters to its terrified inmates, one or the other of them would have been killed beyond a doubt.

They retreated to the barn before Mr. Stebbins could reload his ponderous musket, felt their way to the mow, and sat down on the hay to think over the events of the night.

“When we left school this afternoon, we didn’t dream of such a thing as this—did we?” said Dick, who was the first to break the silence. “I say, Bob, it’s a lucky thing for Mr. Stebbins that we got lost. If we had come straight to the lake and gone on to George’s cabin, there’s no telling what these robbers would have done after they gained a footing in the house.”

“If they didn’t show more pluck in the house than they did out of it, they wouldn’t have accomplished anything,” replied Bob. “I didn’t expect we could drive them away so easily; but they showed themselves to be perfect cowards. There’s one thing that bangs me completely,” added Bob, pulling off his hat and digging his fingers into his head, as if he were trying to stir up his ideas. “Who were those fellows? That is what I want to know.”

“There’s something queer about that. You thought you recognized Wallace’s voice, and Forbes’, and you heard one of the party addressed as Benson?”

“I did, and his voice sounded like Benson’s, too.”

“But you don’t think it was he?”

“Why, of course not,” replied Bob, who, now that his excitement was over, was able to take a calmer and—as he thought—more sensible view of the situation. “There is more than one fellow in the world by the name of Benson.”

But this reflection did not satisfy Bob, or Dick either.

They fell asleep while they were talking the matter over, and slumbered peacefully until daylight, when they were awakened by a series of frightful yells, and started up to find Mr. Stebbins standing in the open door.

His wrinkled face was distorted with rage, and he held in his hands an old flint-lock musket, which he pointed straight at Bob’s head.

He looked dangerous.