search, when Harry decided that matters had gone far enough. He did
not fancy their night visits, and meant to stop them if he could.

Chance favored his design. A puff of air from the door, which Mrs. Fox
had left wide open, extinguished the candle, and left the room, as
there was no moon, in profound darkness.

"Drat the candle!" he heard Mrs. Fox say.

Then a mischievous idea came to Harry. In his native village lived a
man who had passed a considerable time in the wild region beyond the
Missouri River, and had mingled familiarly with the Indians. From him
Harry had learned how to imitate the Indian warwhoop.

"I'll scare the old lady," thought Harry, smiling to himself.

Immediately there rang out from the bed, in the darkness and silence,
a terrific warwhoop, given in Harry's most effective style.

Mrs. Fox was not a nervous woman ordinarily, but she was undeniably
frightened at the unexpected sound.

"Heavens and earth, what's that?" she ejaculated, and dropping our
hero's clothes, retreated in disorder, almost stumbling downstairs in
her precipitate flight. Dashing into the chamber where Mr. Fox was
waiting for her, she sank into a chair, gasping for breath.

"Good gracious, Maria, what's the matter?" exclaimed her husband,
gazing at her in astonishment.