I watched him down the hill until he disappeared in the station,
then, sad at heart, I trudged back to the old homestead that had
caused all my trouble.

It was now broad daylight, but nowhere within my line of vision
could I get a peep of the doughty Diggs.

No doubt he was still cutting across lots trying to head off the
"maleyfactor."




CHAPTER V.

JOHN HENRY'S TELEGRAM.

When I reached the cottage I found all the members of my household
dressed for the day, and lined up on the piazza, eager for news
from the battlefield.

"Gee whiz!" exclaimed Uncle Peter, "the boy is bareheaded! Where's
your hat, John?"

"Mercy! I hope you're not scalped!" Aunt Martha cried,
sympathetically.

I explained that the desperado put up a stiff fight against Diggs
and myself and, warming up to the subject, I went into the details
of a hand to hand struggle that made them all shiver and blink