"Have you looked in the stable?" asked his wife.

"I searched it. They've probably started for the far West."

"Did you look in the sawdust-box?"

"No, I didn't."

"Then that's where they are."

Thus, in the early twilight, the now historic stable was approached by
two fathers charged to do the only thing to be done. They entered the
storeroom.

"Penrod!" said Mr. Schofield.

"Sam!" said Mr. Williams.

Nothing disturbed the twilight hush.

But by means of a ladder, brought from the carriage-house, Mr. Schofield
mounted to the top of the sawdust-box. He looked within, and discerned
the dim outlines of three quiet figures, the third being that of a small
dog.

The two boys rose, upon command, descended the ladder after Mr.
Schofield, bringing Duke with them, and stood before the authors of
their being, who bent upon them sinister and threatening brows. With
hanging heads and despondent countenances, each still ornamented with a
moustache and an imperial, Penrod and Sam awaited sentence.