"I'll keep my eye peeled for 'em," answered the hired man.

The wind was now blowing a gale, causing the trees near the farmhouse
to creak and groan, and banging more than one shutter. But the boys did
not mind this, and went to bed promptly at the usual hour.

"A storm like this on land is nothing to one on the sea," was the way
Tom expressed himself. "I don't like anything better than to listen to
the whistling of the wind when I am snug in bed."

For the time being Sam and Tom were occupying a room in the L of the
farmhouse, and Dick had a small bedchamber adjoining. The boys were
soon undressed, and, having said their prayers, hopped into bed, and
were soon sound asleep.

It was not until half an hour later that the older folks retired.
Anderson Rover was the last to leave the sitting room, where he had
been busy writing some letters at the desk that stood there.

As he was about to retire he fancied he heard a noise outside of one of
the windows. He drew up the curtain and looked through the glass, but
could see nothing.

"It must have been the wind," he murmured. "But, somehow, it didn't
sound like it."

As he stepped into the dark hallway an uneasy feeling took possession
of him--a feeling hard to define, and one for which he could not
account.