Dick raised himself on his haunches, with his ears cocked. Huldah
was seized with sudden fear that he would growl, and so betray their
hiding-place, for her uncle would recognise Dick's growl in a moment.
She laid her hand on his collar firmly. "Quiet!" she commanded,
firmly, and knew that he would obey. She tried to peer out through
the chinks, but it was hard to move without rustling the straw, and
all without was black as pitch.

Then suddenly, quite close to her on the other side of the planking,
sounded a whisper, and Huldah never knew afterwards whether she was
most frightened or relieved--frightened by the nearness of somebody,
or relieved that the somebody was not her "uncle."

"Bill, where's the sack?" the voice asked, impatiently.

"I dunno!" answered another voice, sourly. "You had it. I've cut my
knee on that there wall; I can feel the blood running down my leg."

"You always manages to do something," was all the sympathy Bill got.
"We've got to 'ave the sack, so you'd better find it. How're we to
carry the birds without it? In our hats?"

"It's the fowls!" thought Huldah, thrilling with excitement.
"They're going to steal the fowls. Oh, they shan't! The lady'll
think it's me. Oh, what can I do? How can I tell her? I _must_
stop them, somehow!"

Bill had gone back in search of the sack, and the other thief stood
waiting for him. Huldah had time to think, but no plan came to her.