And each boy had promised to meet him at the Three Oaks by the time the
clock in the church steeple had struck eight.

It was even now booming out the hour.

When the last stroke died away, the most impatient among the gathered
boys moved restlessly.

"Follow me, fellows," said Paul, in a low, thrilling tone.

"Where are we heading for?" queried one, who had as yet failed to express
his feelings in the matter.

This was Wallace Carberry, the sober member of the pair known far
and wide as the Carberry Twins; his mate, William, being his exact
counterpart in every particular, when he chose to repress the
good-natured grin that usually marked his fate.

"To the Shipley barn; single file; and silence is the watchword!"

Paul Morrison had long enjoyed the confidence of his comrades in most
matters pertaining to outdoor sports. A healthy lad, both in mind and
body, he was never so happy as when studying the secrets of Nature in
wood and meadow; or in playing any of the various strenuous games to
which all boys with red blood in their veins are addicted.

And when he sent out his mysterious request that some of his most
intimate friends meet him on this night, as he had a communication
of importance to put up to them, the greatest curiosity made itself
manifest.