men who had been talking politics were still in the major's office, and
when told of the girl's fright they promptly started out for the lane
picking up more help at every turn.

"We will get him if we have to burn down the woods," declared the major,
deeply incensed at his daughter's peril.

"And not a gun in the crowd," remarked Mr. MacAllister. "This is where
we need our constable."

They had reached the lane now, and it was quite dark. Numbers of men,
who had been taking a quiet evening smoke at their own doors joined in
the "rounding up" as Mr. Ford called it.

"No Squire Sanders to help him out this time," some one remarked.

Then the men scattered--completely surrounding the place where the tramp
had been last seen.

"The only way he could get away from us would be in a balloon," said Mr.
MacAllister.

"Or an airship," spoke up someone else.

With heavy clubs and every available weapon to beat down the brush they
started out through the lane on the man hunt.

Surely twenty good men should be able to find the one "tramp" now.

But would they?