es, one of the village boys, came
down to the brook to try his luck at trout-fishing. The afternoon was
sultry and rather cloudy, and it was probable that the fish would bite,
if there were any there. But these contrary trout evidently turned up
their noses at his tempting flies, and at last he gave up in despair.
But Jimmy would not relinquish all hope of a "catch" yet, so he wandered
further up the stream. He walked quite noiselessly for fear of scaring
the fish, and at last halted just back of a large oak-tree. Before he
had had time to cast his fly Jimmy heard the sound of men's voices
speaking in low and cautious tones. Now he was a typical small boy, and
of a shrewd and inquiring turn of mind, so he dropped quietly down on
the bank and listened, screening himself from possible observation by
getting behind a large stump. Soon he caught a sentence which made him
hold his breath to hear more.

"Waal," slowly said a voice which he could not at first recognize, "the
only thing is, we'll haf ter break a winder. I found everythin' fastened
when I skirmished round t'other night."

"It 'ud make an awful racket, breakin' the glass. 'Twould be better to
take a pane out, I reckon," answered the other man.

Jimmy was quite certain that this speaker was Hoke Simpkins.

"Yaas, it might," said the other, meditatively; "that big winder at the
end of the hall."

"Folks say there's piles o' silver and things worth a heap o' money. How
I'd like to get holt on it!"

And Jimmy knew that Farmer Bagstock had spoken.

"Don't see why we can't cut out a pane right under the ketch. Then we
c'n raise the winder in a jiffy."

"Waal, it might do that way," answered Bagstock. "What d'ye say to next
Monday night? That ain't too soon, be it?"

Hoke said he thought not.

"Then," went on the farmer, "we want dark lanterns, and," with a
chuckle, "I don't think an old meal-bag or flour-sack 'u'd be onhandy.
We could git there about nine, cut the pane aout, then go off fur a
spell, fur if any one was a-lookin' it 'u'd throw 'em off the scent.
After a consid'able space we could sneak back and git in. Thar, how's
that for a scheme?" he finished, triumphantly.

"Fine," said Hoke, admiringly. But he added, rather slowly, "Folks say
old Beverley's spook's around there, y'know, but I ain't afraid, be
you?"

"Spooks!" laughed Bagstock, scornfully. "They ain't no sech thing. Ef
there was, they couldn't hurt _us_."

Both were rather silent for