Saturday passed quietly. No captures were made, no prospects sighted. But on Sunday Gizzard began to hear things. Certain inquisitive boys in his Sunday School class interrogated him as to the progress of the new business, and were especially curious to know what disposition was to be made of the captives. Gizzard dismissed them as prying ninnies, and more than thrice denied the existence of the enterprise.

After Sunday School Sube proceeded homeward a few laggard steps, when his attention was arrested by a most unusual anthill in a crack near the center of the sidewalk. He paused to investigate it, for he was greatly interested in ants, especially on Sunday. On several prior occasions he had pointed out to other naturalists, notably Nancy Guilford, certain peculiarities he had observed in the industrious insects. Pleasant discussions had been almost sure to follow. But to-day something was amiss. Nancy swept by without so much as a glance at the young naturalist. His first impulse was to call out to her, but the peculiar way she had brushed aside her skirts as she passed him counseled silence. So he pretended that he had not noticed her, and for several minutes confined his attention to the anthill. Then he crossed the street and passed along the other side utterly oblivious of all the world.

These things had not escaped Gizzard's observation, but he said in his heart, "It means nothing. It is the way of woman." However, on the morrow when he heard Nancy shout across the street to a companion that Sube Cane had stolen her new kitten and that her father was going to have him arrested, they took on a new and horrible significance.

He was irresistibly drawn to Cane's barn, where he found Sube peacefully seated among his yowling charges.

"Oh! You're still here, are you?" Gizzard asked nervously.

"Sure. Where'd you think I'd be?"

"Well, I didn't know. You can never tell! A feller never knows what's goin' to happen to 'im!" was the cryptic response.

Sube looked at Gizzard with a new found interest. "Say, what's the matter of you? You're as white as a sheet!"

"I ain't feelin' very good," Gizzard admitted. "I feel kind o' weak right here." He placed a hand over his stomach as he added, "Guess I'd better be goin' home."

"Better not!" cautioned Sube. "Your mother'll give you a dose of castor oil!"

"No she won't," muttered Gizzard weakly. "I'm goin' anyhow."

"Seen any strays to-day?" Sube called after him as he went out of the door.

"Nope. S'long!"

"S'long!"

Twice that afternoon Gizzard returned, and each time went away complaining of weakness in his middle. Why he did not tell Sube what he had heard can never be explained, for Gizzard did not know himself. Perhaps he did not wish to have his partner unduly alarmed by rumors that might turn out to be false. But when he came rushing into the barn after supper, he told what had been on his mind, without further delay.

"Hey, Sube!" he cried in a tremulous voice. "You gotta get out of here! He jus' went in your house lookin' for you!"

He caught Sube by the arm and dragged him towards the door.

"What I got to get out for?" asked the amazed cat-catcher.

"Dan Lan-non!" enunciated the terrified informant. "He's goin'ta 'rest you!"

At the name of this grim officer of the law all felons trembled. Sube was no exception to the rule. He grew deathly pale. He had that empty feeling in his interior that Gizzard had complained of. He vaguely wondered what crime he had committed, but did not stop to inquire, as Gizzard dragged him feverishly towards the back door of the barn. Once outside he seemed to recover possession of his senses and assumed the lead. He conducted Gizzard to the midst of a clump of blackberry bushes in the rear of a deserted house not far away, and there Gizzard unburdened his soul.

Sube was scared. He was petrified. But he was faithful to the last. He could not believe that Nancy had betrayed him.

"It must of been that ol' M's Rude," he kept repeating. "It must of been! It couldn't of been—anybody else! Now I wonder if that big cat with the long hair belonged to her."

"Wonder? Ain't you sure?"

"Why, it looked like hers, but—"

"It wasn't M's Rude," declared Gizzard. "It was Nancy Guilford! Why, didn't she say she was goin' to have you—!"

"Girls say lots of things they don't mean."

"Yes, but she said it, and then it happened!"

"I don't care what she said! I tell you it was that ol' M's Rude!" Sube burst out angrily. Then modifying his tone he continued: "But that don't cut any ice anyway! What I want to know is, what we goin' to do?"

Then followed a long discussion of the possibilities, and, as neither of the fugitives was willing to be taken alive, there seemed to be only one alternative: flight. Alaska was discarded as too cold, and South America as too hot. That portion of Texas nearest to the Mexican line seemed to offer the most tempting prospects for a "career," and Sube had begun to take a bit of grim comfort in the pangs that he felt sure Nancy Guilford must endure as she came to realize that she had made a desperado of him, when an idea flashed into his brain with the brilliancy of a searchlight.

"Say!" he gasped. "Why couldn't we sneak back there and let the derned ol' cats out! Then we'd lay low till they had time to get back to their homes—!"

"You're on!" cried Gizzard.

They made their way out of their retreat, unmindful of the scratching thorns, and cautiously retraced their steps to the barn.

"I never heard 'em so quiet before," whispered Sube. "S'pose they're all asleep?"

"Prob'ly," replied Gizzard. "It must be awful late."

They lighted a stump of a candle that had been hidden away for just such emergencies, and ascended the dusty stairs. Horror seized them as they found their place of business in wildest disorder, with the cages upset and broken open and every cat gone. Through the flickering gloom they stared at each other dumbfounded, bewildered; their last faint glimmer of hope gone.

"Where do you s'pose—" faltered Gizzard, but he was unable to say more.

"Dan must've got 'em for proof!" groaned Sube.

"What'll we ever do!" snivelled Gizzard.

"Now I s'pose we got to beat it!" replied Sube in a voice husky with emotion.

A long hoarse whistle startled them.

"A freight train!" cried Sube. "If it stops, we'll jump it!"

They tumbled down the stairs, blew out the candle, and restoring it to its hiding place, started on a run for the railroad station some three blocks away. As they passed under an electric light on the corner they heard a shout behind them; but instead of stopping to investigate they put on more speed. After a little Gizzard looked back and caught a glimpse of their pursuer.

"It's Dan Lannon all right!" he panted. "And he's after us!"

The fugitives pressed forward to the very limit of their speed. Suddenly with a roar and a rumble the freight train pulled into the station and came to a stop, effectively blocking the street along which they were going. To clamber aboard at that point was not to be thought of, for an electric light at the crossing made the entire neighborhood as light as day. A flank movement was inevitable.

Sube dashed to the right, calling to Gizzard to follow. But Gizzard had already started towards the left. By the time the boys discovered their mistake the enemy was already threatening their lines of communication; and so they were separated.

Gizzard skirted the rear end of the freight train and went directly home, where he was sent to bed and no questions asked. But Sube cut in between two houses, fell over a flower bed, caught his chin on a clothesline, tore his pants on a barbed-wire fence, and skinned his knee against a woodpile. Then he found himself in his own back yard with no place to go. He tarried in the dark shadows recovering his wind and feeling, no doubt, quite like the prodigal son. But he did not tarry long. There were too many mysterious sounds on all sides to suit him. He must go somewhere. Only one place presented itself; so he clambered up a post of the back porch, and slipping through the window was soon cuddled up spoon-fashion to his sleeping brother, Cathead.

And there his mother found him an hour later, sound asleep. She called his father. "Look in the bed," she said. "Here we've been worrying about Sube and all the time he was right where he belonged. He must have come in while you were talking to Mr. Lannon."

"That's very likely," his father agreed; "but I wonder what he's been up to. I'm always suspicious of Sube when he does anything he ought to."

"Don't you think you'd better call up Mr. Lannon and tell him that Sube has come home? He might go all around looking for him."

"Don't you worry about Dan Lannon! He won't bother himself to look for anybody unless he has received his mileage in advance. I didn't ask him to look for Sube, anyway; I simply told him to send the boy home if he happened to see him."

When Sube woke up the bright sunlight was streaming in the window. He was inclined to believe that the whole affair had been a nightmare. But a lump on his knee and a ragged rent in his trousers seemed to indicate that parts of it, at least, were real. It was soon apparent that Cathead knew nothing of his brother's criminal offense, for immediately on waking up he asked:

"Where were you so late last night?"

"Nowheres much. Just round here everyplace."

"Who was with you?"

"Giz."

"Jus' the two of you?"

"Yes, the two of us! Say, what you think this is? A game of truth?"

"You better go to bed earlier," replied Cathead, "if it makes you so dern' cross to stay up late."

"Boys!" called their mother from the foot of the stairs. "Breakfast is ready! Come right down!"

When Sube reached the breakfast table and observed that his father had already gone he breathed a sigh of relief. Then it struck him that it might be an unfavorable sign. To his guilty conscience everything seemed suspicious. He glanced furtively at his mother and was not reassured. Something about her reminded him of the way she looked the day she took him to the dentist to have a tooth pulled.

"I didn't hear you come in last night, Sube," she remarked at length.

Sube started. "Ma'am?" he said defensively; then it occurred to him that he did not care to have the question repeated, and he added quickly, "No, ma'am."

"You must have come in while Mr. Lannon was here."

Sube swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am," he almost whispered.

"Nobody heard you come in. When you slip in so quietly you ought to let me know. There's no telling how long Mr. Lannon may have hunted for you—"

The telephone rang. Mrs. Cane answered. It was Mr. Cane inquiring whether the carpenter had come to do some work on the barn. Sube heard his mother say:

"Yes, he's here now."

A moment later he heard her say in a low tone: "No, I won't let him get away before you come—"

Sube did not wait to hear more. He quietly rose from his chair and slipped out of the front door. The back door would have been better, but it was directly in line with his mother's vision. As he leaped down the front steps he found himself face to face with Mrs. Rude, and before he could begin the retreat he instantly planned she opened fire on him.

"Good morning, Sube!" she called pleasantly. "I've found my kittie! She came back last night!"

Out of a whirling brain Sube tried to direct a suitable reply. The best he could do was:

"Yes'm."

For a moment his burden seemed to slip from him. Mrs. Rude wasn't after him at all! But when it began to dawn on him that it must have been Nancy after all who had put the police on his trail, his last state was worse than his first. His senses were paralyzed. He became deaf, dumb and blind. A young lady passing along the street found it necessary to speak to him twice before she was able to attract his attention.

At the second "Hello, Sube!" he turned, outrage written on every feature. But Nancy seemed to concede to him the right to be peevish, for she spoke again even more sweetly than before.

"See what I've got!"