Tom and Helen
followed her so softly into the room that Ruth did not hear them until
they stood beside her. Tom touched her arm and pointed downward:

"Tramps?" he asked.

"Those Gypsies, I believe," whispered Ruth, in return.

Helen was just as scared as she could be, and clung tightly to Tom's
hand. "Wish we could scare them away," suggested the boy, with knitted
brow.

"Perhaps we can!" uttered Ruth, suddenly eager, and her brown eyes
dancing. "Sh! Wait! Let me try."

She went to the paper-stuffed stovepipe hole, out of which the bat had
fallen. Helen would have exclaimed aloud, had not Tom seen her lips open
and squeezed her hand warningly.

"What is it?" he hissed.

"Don't! don't!" begged Helen. "You'll let those bats all out here----"

"Bats?" queried Tom, in wonder.

"In the chimney," whispered Ruth. "Listen!"

The stir and squeaking of the bats were audible. Enough rain had come in
at the top of the broken chimney to disturb the nocturnal creatures.

"Just the thing!" giggled Tom, seeing what Ruth would do. "Frighten them
to pieces!"

The girl of the Red Mill had secured the stick she used before. She
pulled aside the "stopper" of newspaper and thrust in the stick. At once
the rustling and squeaking increased.

She worked the stick up and down insistently. Scale from the inside of
the chimney began to rattle down to the hearth below. The voices ceased.
Then the men were heard to scramble up.

The bats were dislodged--perhaps many of them! There was a scuffling and
scratching inside the flue.

Below, the men broke out into loud cries. They shouted their alarm in
the strange language the girls had heard before. Then their feet stamped
over the floor.

Tom ran lightly to the window. He saw a bat wheel out of the window
below, and disappear. The rain had almost stopped.

It was evident that many of the creatures were flapping about that
deserted dining-room. The two ruffians scrambled to the door, through
the entry, and out upon the porch.

The sound of their feet did not hold upon the porch. They leaped down
the steps, and Tom beckoned the girls eagerly to join him at the window.
The two men were racing down the lane toward the muddy highroad, paying
little attention to their steps or to the last of the rainstorm.

"Panic-stricken, sure enough! Smart girl, Ruthie," was Master Tom's
comment. "Now tell a fellow all about it."

The girls did so, while Ruth lit the alcohol lamp and made the te