"What are you doing, Willie?" came the maternal voice.

"Nuthin', just lookin' for my cap, I'm going out now."

Once more out where he could watch the hens, Willie proceeded to
unload his pockets. He brought to light some sheets of paper, a
pencil, a large needle, a spool of black linen thread and all of the
soaked corn he had been able to put in his pockets.

He tore the paper in strips about an inch wide and three inches long.
On each slip he wrote, "Please keep us home." On the other side,
"Conclusive Evidence."

He cut pieces of string, linen thread, about six inches long, some
longer. With the aid of the needle he threaded a piece of corn on
one end of each string, on the other end he tied one of the slips of
paper. When all were finished he scattered them broadcast over and
about the garden.

"Willie, come to dinner."

No Willie appeared on the scene.

"Willie, dinner is ready."

Still no sign of the lad and his mother started after him with a
queer look in her eye.

Strange was the sight her eyes beheld as she came around the corner