n't do nothin' in the dark," he grumbled. "Let us wait till
morning."

"No, I am going after them now," answered Dick, decidedly.

"So am I," added Sam and Tom.

They were going forward as rapidly as the semi darkness would permit.
The ground was more or less uncertain, and once the youngest Rover
went into a mud hole, splashing the mud up into Jack Ness' face.

"Hi, stop that!" spluttered the hired man. "Want to put my eye out?"

"Excuse me, Jack, I didn't see the hole," answered Sam.

"It ain't safe to walk here in the dark--somebody might break a
leg."

"If you want to go back you can do so," put in Dick. "Give Tom the
shotgun."

"Oh--er--I'm goin' if you be," answered Jack Ness. He was ashamed
to let them know how much of a coward he really was.

It was quite a distance to Swift River, which at this point ran among
a number of stately willows. As the boys gained the water's edge they
saw a boat putting out not a hundred feet away.

"There they are!" cried Dick.

"Stop!" yelled Tom. "Stop, unless you want to be shot!"

"We'll do a little shooting ourselves if you are not careful!" came
back in a harsh voice.

"Take care! Take care!" cried Jack Ness, in terror, and ran to hide
behind a handy tree.

The two men in the boat were putting down the stream with all speed.
The current, always strong, soon carried them around a bend and out of
sight.

It must be confessed that the boys were in a quandary. They did not
wish to give up the chase, yet they realized that the escaping men
might be desperate characters and ready to put up a hard fight if
cornered.

"Jack, I think you had better run over to the Ditwold house and tell
them what is up," said Dick, after a moment's thought. "Tell Ike and
Joe we are going to follow in Dan Bailey's boat." The Ditwolds were
neighboring farmers and Ike and Joe were strong young men ever ready
to lend a hand in time of trouble.

"All right," answered the hired man, and set off, first, however,
turning his firearm over to Tom.

The three Rover boys were well acquainted with the river, and had had
more than one adventure on its swiftly flowing waters, as my old
readers know. They skirted a number of the willows and came to a small
creek, where they found Dan Bailey's craft tied to a stake. But there
were no oars, and they gazed at one another in dismay.

"We might have known it," said Dick, in disgust. "He always takes the
oars up to the barn with him."

The barn w