people, and had to keep watch so we wouldn't be robbed. Oh! standing
sentry is an old trick with us!"

"For my p-p-part," remarked Toby, yawning as he spoke, "I'd much rather
think up some g-g-good s-s-scheme that would ease the s-s-strain, and
allow us to s-s-sleep through the entire night."

"Please explain what you mean by saying that, Toby," demanded Steve;
"you do get off the most mysterious communications sometimes, and muddle
us all up."

"But there isn't anything q-q-queer about this, Steve," protested Toby.
"All of you know I've been a g-g-great h-h-hand to make m-m-machinery
take the place of h-h-hand power. What's the need of our s-s-staying
awake p-p-part of the night, even, if by cudgeling our brains we
c-c-could think up some g-g-good s-s-scheme that would answer the same
purpose?"

"I can see _you_ cudgeling your poor brains, all right, Toby," sneered
Steve, who apparently did not take a great deal of stock in the other's
ability for conceiving clever ideas: "and a pretty mess you'd make of
it, in the bargain. Take it from me, they're cudgeled enough as it is."

"That will do for you, Steve," said Max. "I understand just what Toby
means, and it's along the right line too. This is the age of progress,
and up-to-date people don't want to depend on the old-time methods that
were good enough for their grandfathers. Toby thinks one of us might
suggest a scheme whereby we could guard the fox farm, and at the same
time obtain our full quota of sleep. In other words, rig up a dummy to
stand our trick as sentry. Isn't that it, Toby?"