thin a dozen feet of the students. Then they lined up,
growled fiercely, and showed their teeth.

"Let us get into the barn," suggested Roger, and flung open a door that
was handy. Into the building they went pell-mell, Dave being the last to
enter. One dog made a dart at the youth's leg, but Dave gave him a kick
that sent him back. Then the door was slammed shut and latched, and the
students found themselves in utter darkness.

"Wonder if they can get in any other way?" asked Phil, after a second of
silence, during which they heard the dogs barking outside.

"I doubt if any of the doors are open in this storm," answered Shadow.

"Let us get up in--in the loft!" suggested Nat Poole. He was as white as
the snow outside and his teeth were chattering from something else
besides the cold.

"That's a good idea," said Dave. "But we must have a light to learn
where the loft is. Anybody got a match?"

Nobody had such an article, and a groan went up. Nat Poole was appealed
to, for the others knew he had been smoking on the train.

"My matchbox is empty," said he. "I am going to hunt for the loft ladder
in the dark."

"Be careful, or you may run into some troublesome horse," cautioned
Dave.

The boys moved slowly around in the dark. They could hear the sounds of
several horses feeding and the barking of the dogs. Then, quite
unexpectedly, came the cracking of a board, a yell of alarm from Nat
Poole, and a loud splash.

"Help! I am drowning! Save me!"

CHAPTER IV

WHAT HAPPENED AT THE BARN

"Nat has fallen into the water!"

"Where is he? I can't see a thing."

"He must have gone down in some cistern."

These and other cries rang out, and all of the boys of Oak Hall were
filled with consternation. Dave had located the splash fairly well, and
as quickly as he could he felt his way in that direction.

"Nat, where are you?" he called out.

"Here, down in a cistern! Help me out, or I'll be frozen to death."

Dave now reached the edge of the cistern. Two of the boards which had
covered it had broken, letting Nat down quite unexpectedly. Fortunately
there was only three feet of water in the cistern, so there was no fear
of drowning. But the water was icy and far from agreeable.

As Dave leaned down to give Poole his hand, the door of the barn was
flung open and a farmer strode in, a lantern in one hand and a stout
stick in the other. The man held the light over his head and looked
around suspiciously.