Arrived at Mr. Damon's home in Waterfield, Tom got quickly to
work on the little job he had come to do for his old friend. Of
course, Tom might have sent two of his mechanics from the works
down here to electrify the barbed wire entanglements that Mr.
Damon had erected around his chicken run. But the young inventor
knew that his eccentric friend would not consider the job done
right unless Tom attended to it personally.

"Bless my cracked corn and ground bone mixture!" ejaculated the
chicken fancier. "We'll show these night-prowlers what's what, I
guess. One of my neighbors was robbed last night. And I would
have been if I hadn't set a watch while I drove over to see you,
Tom. Bless my spurs and hackles! but these thieves are getting
bold."

"We'll fix 'em," said Tom, cheerfully, while Koku brought the
tools and wire to the hen run. "After we link up your supply of
the current with this wire fence it will be an unhappy chicken
burglar who interferes with it."

"That was an unhappy fellow who got your charge of ammonia last
evening," whispered Mr. Damon. "Heard anything more of him?"

"I think I have seen him. But Koku spoiled everything by trying
to eat him up," and Tom laughingly related what had occurred on
the way from Shopton.

"Bless my boots!" said Mr. Damon. "You'd better see the police,
Tom."