BEFORE Tom’s arrival on the common, the Night-hawks had been debating a knotty question. For nearly three weeks, the society had been inactive, not a single exploit having been performed to add to their glory; and one of the members, becoming weary of the monotony, had studied up a plan to “put a little life into the boys.” The scheme he proposed rendered it necessary that some one should run considerable risk; and the trouble among the Night-hawks had been occasioned by the effort to decide who that some one should be.

It was proposed to present ’Squire Thompson—a crusty, nervous old gentleman, whom all the boys delighted in teasing—with some of his own fruit and vegetables. The ’squire lived in the village, but he owned a farm about two miles back in the country, and it was there the vegetables grew. In order to convey their present from the farm to the village, it had been proposed to “borrow” the ’squire’s horse and wagon; and it was when the question arose, who shall be the one to go into the stable and harness the horse that the trouble began.

The Night-hawks were all delighted with the idea; but the difficulty was to find a boy courageous enough to do the dangerous part of the work. They were quite willing, and even eager, to engage in the sport, but they did not like the idea of going into a man’s stable after night, and “borrowing” his horse and wagon. It was a common saying among the members of the society, that “’Squire Thompson slept with one eye and both ears open;” besides, he kept two fierce dogs, and the chances were not one in ten that they could harness the horse, hitch him to the wagon, and escape without disturbing either the dogs or some member of the ’squire’s family. It had at first been suggested that the commander should appoint some one to do the work; but the boys would not agree to this, neither would they allow the “forlorn hope” to be selected by ballot. In short, the scheme was in danger of being abandoned, when Tom’s arrival showed the Night-hawks a way out of their difficulty. He was “just the man they wanted;” for he was “the strongest and bravest fellow in the party, and wasn’t afraid of any thing.”

“Well, Tom, what do you think of it?” asked Johnny Harding, after he had explained the scheme, and described, in glowing language, the astonishment and vexation ’Squire Thompson would experience when he awoke the next morning and found his wagon before his door, loaded with onions, cabbage, peaches, and green pumpkins. “Wouldn’t it be gay?”

“Yes,” answered Tom, “it would be glorious. But who is to get the horse and wagon?”

“Why, you are, of course!” answered Johnny. “If you refuse, it will be the first time since we organized our society. You see, it’s rather a difficult job, and no one but a very brave, strong, and skillful fellow should be allowed to undertake it; for it isn’t every boy that can go into a man’s stable, harness a horse, and bring him out, without awakening some one. I acknowledge that I can’t do it, but I know you can.”

“Yes, Newcombe,” chimed in several of the Night-hawks, “you’re the only man in the party that we can trust. You know just how it ought to be done.”

But Tom, just then, thought differently. He did not believe that he was the bravest and most skillful member of the society, neither did he like the idea of being obliged to secure the horse and wagon for the expedition, for he knew there was danger in it. But still, the thought of refusing to attempt it, never once entered into his head—that would injure his reputation, for it would show the Night-hawks that their grand commander was not half as brave as they had imagined him to be. So, summoning up courage, he replied, desperately:

“Well, I’ll do it! I am not afraid of ’Squire Thompson, nor his big bull dogs either. But, before we go any further, I want one thing understood. If I succeed in getting the horse and wagon, I am going to do all the driving, and you mustn’t expect me to help load the vegetables when we get to the farm.”

The Night-hawks, without hesitation, agreed to this arrangement, for they knew, that in order to succeed in their undertaking, they must allow Tom to have his own way in some things. They were delighted that he had so readily yielded to their demands, and, in high glee, they set out for ’Squire Thompson’s house. They did not all go together, for, as it was only about half past eight o’clock, the streets were not yet deserted, and the Night-hawks did not wish to attract attention by marching through the village in a body.

Tom, accompanied by Johnny Harding and two more of his particular friends, stopped to hold a consultation, when they arrived within a short distance of the house, while the others kept on up the road and sat down by the fence, to wait until Tom should bring out the horse and wagon. After a few moments’ whispered conversation, Tom and Johnny decided that their first care must be to reconnoiter the premises, and ascertain exactly where the ’squire’s team was kept. The coast was not altogether clear, for a light shone from the windows of the house, showing that the ’squire’s family had not yet retired; and, as Tom and his companions approached, a loud, fierce bark told them that the dogs were on the watch. The stable was but a short distance from the house, and in the same yard, and Tom knew that his only chance for success was to devise some plan to occupy the attention of the dogs until he could perform the work allotted to him. The dogs evidently suspected that something unusual was going on, for they followed the Night-hawks as they moved down the fence, barking fierce and loud, as if to warn them that they intended to keep a close watch on all their movements. Tom appeared perfectly unconcerned, but the truth was, he was very glad indeed that there was a high fence between him and the savage brutes.

“To tell what’s a fact, boys,” said he; “I don’t feel much like taking a hand in this business to-night. I have walked a long way through the hot sun to-day, and I’ve got a little touch of the headache. I believe I have sprained my ankle, too,” he added, suddenly beginning to limp, as if he found it exceedingly difficult to walk. “I can hardly move.”

“That’s too bad,” said Johnny, offering his arm to support Tom. “But, Newcombe, I know you are too spunky to allow a sprained ankle or a little headache to stand between you and such fun as we are going to have to-night.”

“It will soon wear off,” said the others.

The Night-hawks understood the motives of their chief as well as he did himself, and it was plain that they did not intend to give him an opportunity to back out. Tom, being well aware of this, and seeing no possible chance for escape, again formed a reckless determination to go through with his part of the work, if within the bounds of possibility. They kept on down the fence until they reached the stable, and, as they walked slowly along, Tom made a close but rapid examination of the premises, and, to his delight, found the two principal obstacles which he had imagined would stand in his way removed. The horse had not been confined in the stable, but was quietly grazing in a small pasture adjoining the barn-yard. The wagon stood just inside the gate, and the harness lay upon the seat, where the ’squire had thrown it before turning out his horse. If the Night-hawks had had a faithful friend in the ’squire’s family, who had been instructed to have every thing in readiness for the expedition, he could not have arranged matters more to Tom’s liking.

“That’s lucky, isn’t it, fellows?” whispered Johnny, when he had noticed these two points. “It’s just as we want it.”

“O, it’s all the same to me!” replied Tom, carelessly. “If the horse and the wagon were both in the barn and locked up, I know I could get them out!”

Tom’s courage always arose or fell in proportion to the number of obstacles he found in his way. Up to this moment he had been impatiently asking himself the question, how should he shirk his part of the work if he found the horse and wagon locked up in the stable? Had they been safe under lock and key, it is probable that Tom would have refused to proceed further on account of his lame ankle and severe headache; but when he found that they were in a position to be secured with very little difficulty, he forgot to limp, his headache left him as suddenly as it had come, and he became very courageous.

“Now, Newcombe,” said one of the boys, when they had walked entirely around the ’squire’s yard, and had thoroughly reconnoitered the situation, “how are you going to work it?”

“I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Johnny, who was always ready for any emergency; “we’ll keep the dogs here, while Newcombe goes and gets the horse.”

“But how are you going to do it?” asked Tom.

“With this!” replied Johnny, showing a stick, which he carried in his hand. “Every time the dogs start to go away, I’ll pound on the fence with this cane. That will make them mad, and they won’t leave here as long as we are in sight.”

“I’d like to see that plan tried before I risk it,” said Tom, doubtfully. “Perhaps it won’t work.”

As he spoke, he walked off toward the barn. The dogs followed him; but when Johnny rattled his stick between the pickets, they bounded back, and the larger of the dogs made a desperate attempt to leap the fence to get at Johnny.

“They’re savage, aint they?” whispered the latter.

“I should say they were!” replied Tom, his courage gradually melting away again. “Boys, my head aches awfully, and my ankle grows worse every minute.”

“Never mind that!” said Johnny. “It’ll soon wear off. My plan works first rate, don’t it, boys? Go on, Newcombe; we’ll agree to keep the dogs here.”

“But, fellows,” said Tom, who did not like to be required to do all the work alone, “one of you ought to go with me and help me pull that wagon out of the yard. It’s too heavy for me!”

“O, nonsense!” exclaimed Johnny. “You’re the strongest fellow in the party, and you could pull that wagon from here to the farm and back again, with all the boys in it. Go ahead, Newcombe! We’ll keep the dogs here!”

“But suppose I can’t catch the horse?” persisted Tom. “Perhaps he kicks or bites strangers.”

“O, no, he don’t. He’s as gentle as an old cow. You’ll have no trouble. Go on, Newcombe! We haven’t got much more time to waste.”

Tom, finding that the boys were determined that he should do all the work, at length succeeded in mustering up courage enough to start off alone. As he walked by the house, he glanced in at the window, the curtain of which was raised, and saw the ’squire, sitting in his easy chair, and the other members of his family gathered about a table, engaged in various evening occupations. The ’squire had, of course, heard the noise made by his dogs, but, thinking that they were barking at persons who every evening passed by his house on the way to their own homes, he did not trouble himself about the matter.

After satisfying himself that none of the family had been alarmed, Tom again started off. Reaching the stable, he carefully unlatched the gate, and placed a stick of wood against it to keep it open; then, seizing the thills of the wagon, he prepared to make an exhibition of that tremendous strength which had won for him from the Night-hawks the name of being the “strongest fellow in the party.” The wagon was not a heavy one, but it must have been rooted to the ground; for Tom, for a long time, exerted his muscles in vain. The grand commander, however, always worked harder and more perseveringly in a bad cause than he did in a good one, and at last the wagon moved; and after considerable pulling and grunting, Tom succeeded in drawing it through the gate into the road. After listening again, to be sure that no one in the house had heard what was going on, and that Johnny was still successful in occupying the attention of the dogs, Tom closed and fastened the gate; and again taking hold of the wagon, pulled it down the road toward the place where the main body of the Night-hawks were hidden behind the fence, impatiently waiting for him. Tom’s spirits rose considerably when he found that he had successfully accomplished part of his work; and when the Night-hawks sprang from their concealments, and took hold to help him along with the wagon, he did not ask any of them to assist him in catching the horse. The numerous congratulations he received from his friends, who called him a “jolly old brick,” and a “spunky boy,” accompanied by repeated assurances that they had always known that he was the “strongest and bravest fellow in the society,” greatly encouraged him; and had the horse been locked up in the stable, he would not have hesitated to make the attempt to bring him out.

When they had pulled the wagon as far as the fence which bounded the lower end of the pasture, Tom ordered a halt, and taking the bridle out of the wagon, climbed over into the inclosure to catch the horse. This was a signal to the Night-hawks, who, thinking that there was still a chance for discovery, hid themselves behind the fence, or stood in readiness to run off, should the ’squire’s dogs make their appearance. As for Tom, he had suddenly become very reckless, and he did not trouble his head about the dogs, or the ’squire either. The horse proved to be very gentle, as Johnny had said he would, and the grand commander had no difficulty in catching him and slipping the bridle over his head. He then led him up to the fence, a portion of which—it being built of rails—was thrown down by the Night-hawks, who again made their appearance; and, after the horse had been led into the road, some built up the fence again, others began to harness the horse, and two of the members, in obedience to Tom’s orders, ran off to inform Johnny that every thing was ready for the start. By the time Harding and his friends arrived, the horse had been hitched to the wagon, and Tom sat on the seat, with a whip in one hand and the reins in the other.

“All aboard, fellows!” whispered the grand commander, and the Night-hawks, thirteen in number, tumbled into the wagon, which moved off on the road to ’Squire Thompson’s farm. Tom had conducted all his operations in a very cautious manner, and no one in the house had been alarmed.

“Newcombe,” whispered Johnny, as Tom drove off, “if there was no danger of being overheard, we’d give you nine rousing cheers. You’re a genuine brick.”

The congratulations the chief received for the skill and bravery he had exhibited, were much more numerous than refined. The Night-hawks said and did every thing they could to convince him that they held his services in high appreciation; and Tom listened eagerly to all their compliments.

It was two miles to the farm; but Tom, being anxious to reach home again as soon as possible, put whip to the horse, which whirled his wagon load of mischievous Night-hawks rapidly over the road; and, at the end of half an hour, Tom drew up before the gate of ’Squire Thompson’s farm and stopped. Johnny Harding sprang out of the wagon and opened the gate; after which Tom drove on, until he reached a barn, which was situated near the middle of the farm. Here he stopped again, and the Night-hawks, springing out of the wagon, started off in different directions to hunt up the vegetables—all except the grand commander, who, according to the agreement made before starting, was not required to assist in loading the cargo. There was now no danger of discovery. There was a house on the farm, but no one lived in it, and it was an easy matter to conduct their operations without making noise enough to alarm any of the neighbors.

The Night-hawks were not at all particular as to the nature of their “present,” for whatever articles came first to their hands—such as shovels, rakes, hoes, sticks of wood and chips—were seized and thrown into the wagon. But still there was room for a few vegetables, and presently a boy appeared with his arms filled with onions, followed by two or three loaded with green pumpkins, and Johnny Harding brought up the rear, bringing a goose, which he had captured after a long race.

“O, now, let him go!” exclaimed Tom. “Don’t bring him here. He’ll arouse every body within a mile around.”

“No fear of that,” replied Johnny, confidently. “I’ll carry him in my arms, and every time he tries to make a noise I’ll choke him.”

This suggested a slight change in the original programme, for all the Night-hawks now turned their attention to the ’squire’s live stock. Some climbed over the fence into the barn-yard, and endeavored to capture one of the calves, others attempted to run down the remainder of the geese, and the result was that, in a very few moments, all the dogs in the neighborhood had been aroused, and were barking vociferously.

“Our game is up now, boys,” said Johnny. “Let’s be off, or we’ll have the Philistines down on us. I wish we could have caught two or three of those calves, and the rest of the geese. However, we have got as large a load already as this old horse can pull. All aboard, fellows! Drive on, Tom.”

The retreat from the farm was easily accomplished, and as soon as the Night-hawks were satisfied that they were out of danger, they began to indulge in speculations as to what ’Squire Thompson would say when he found what a present they had brought him; and Tom declared that he would like to be “hidden behind a tree somewhere, so that he might hear all the ’squire had to say about it.” Had he known what was to happen before he got through with his night’s work, it is probable that he never would have given utterance to this wish. But Tom was not as happy as he pretended to be. He was thinking of a most unpleasant task he had yet to perform, and that was to put the horse and wagon where he had found them. This was a particularly dangerous piece of work, and he would have been glad, indeed, could he have thought of some plan to shift the responsibility upon the shoulders of some body else.

“Boys,” said he, after thinking the matter over, “I propose that we don’t put the wagon back in the yard. Let’s leave it outside the gate.”

“O, no, Newcombe,” replied Johnny, quickly, “that would spoil it all. In order to do the business up nicely, we must put every thing back where we found it.”

“But just look at the risk I shall run,” said Tom. “You must remember that the wagon is loaded, and that I can’t pull it from the pasture to the barn. It’s too heavy.”

“Of course it is. You will have to drive right into the stable-yard.”

“It’s dangerous!” repeated Tom.

“I know it is,” said Johnny; “but I know also that you are not afraid to do it.”

“Of course he isn’t,” chimed in another. “I don’t believe that Newcombe knows what fear is.”

The long and short of the matter was, that, by the time the Night-hawks reached the fence that bounded the lower end of ’Squire Thompson’s pasture, Tom had been so skillfully handled by his companions, that he promised to put the wagon where he had found it, no matter if the ’squire and both his dogs were there to oppose him. But still he thought it best to be cautious, and, when they had arrived within a short distance of the house, Tom told Johnny to go round to the front of the lot and occupy the attention of the dogs as he had done before.

“All right, I’ll do it,” replied Johnny. “Here, Harry Green, hold my goose till I come back.”

“Now, boys, I’m afraid of that goose,” said Tom. “You had better let him go.”

“O, no,” replied Harry, “I’ll watch him.”

Tom was not satisfied with this arrangement, but he was obliged to submit to it; and Johnny, after cautioning the grand commander to be very careful, set off to find the dogs, accompanied by two or three of his friends. The dogs, being on the alert, soon became aware of the presence of the Night-hawks, and Johnny had no difficulty in inducing them to follow him to the lower end of the lot, where he stopped, and sent one of the boys back to inform Tom that the coast was clear. The grand commander reluctantly mounted to his seat in the wagon, and drove toward the barn. He drove very slowly, but the wagon, being heavily loaded, made a great deal of noise, and Tom was more than once on the point of going back to his companions, and informing them that, if they wished the wagon left in the barn-yard, they must send some one besides himself to put it there. But he knew just what would happen if he backed out, and, fearing ridicule more than the wrath of the ’squire, he kept on, resolved to make the attempt, and, if he failed, to effect his escape as best he could. He was followed by several of the Night-hawks, one of whom opened the gate when he reached the stable, and Tom drove into the yard. At this moment the goose, which Harry Green held in his arms, and which he intended to tie with his handkerchief and put into the wagon as soon as the horse was unharnessed, escaped from its captor and flew over the fence into the yard, making noise enough to awaken the soundest sleeper in the ’squire’s family.

“There,” exclaimed Tom; “I told you just how it would be.”

“Hurry up, Newcombe,” whispered several of the boys. “It’s getting unhealthy about here.”

Before Tom could jump down from the wagon, however, a low whistle from Johnny Harding told him that something was wrong in that quarter also. This was followed by a commotion in the house, the door opened, and ’Squire Thompson, with a lantern in one hand and a huge cane in the other, sprang down the steps, shouting:

“Here they are! Take ’em dogs, take ’em!”

All this happened in less time than it takes to write it, but the angry ’squire had scarcely made his appearance when the nimble Night-hawks, who had held themselves in readiness for this emergency, closed the gate and took to their heels, leaving the grand commander to fight his enemies, or to escape if he could. Tom saw, at a glance, that he had got himself into trouble, and that his chances for flight were very slim indeed. But he could not surrender without making an attempt to save himself; so he sprang down from the wagon and started for the gate; but a loud, fierce bark, accompanied by an encouraging yell from the ’squire, told him that his pursuers were not far behind, and that his escape in that direction was cut off. Even if he succeeded in opening the gate before the dogs arrived, they would follow him down the road, and overtake him before he had gone twenty yards. Tom gave himself up for lost, and his only desire was to get out of reach of the dogs. He feared them more than the ’squire. There was a cherry-tree close at hand, and the grand commander sprang into its branches with the agility of a cat; but scarcely had he climbed out of reach, when the dogs arrived. To Tom’s surprise and delight, they did not stop under the tree, but ran straight to the gate, where they stood, and kept up a furious barking, until the ’squire appeared on the scene.

“Catch ’em, dogs—catch the young scoundrels,” he exclaimed, opening the gate.

The dogs bounded out into the road, and disappeared in the direction taken by the Night-hawks. But the latter had made good use of their time, and presently the dogs returned without having overtaken any of them. They were all safe except the grand commander, who sat in his tree and awaited the issue of events in a most unpleasant frame of mind. He had assured his friends that he would like to be in a position to “hear what the ’squire had to say about it;” and he seemed in a fair way to have his wish gratified.

“The young scoundrels!” exclaimed the ’squire, as he closed the gate. “Those boys ought all to be taken care of. I wonder what they were prowling about here for? Hallo, what’s this?”

He had, for the first time, discovered that his horse and wagon had been used; and when he walked up and examined the contents of the wagon, his rage knew no bounds.

“I wish I had the rascals here,” he exclaimed, in a voice that made Tom tremble; “I’d teach ’em. Here are hoes, rakes, onions, pumpkins, and—what’s this? My two-horse plow, that I took out to the farm day before yesterday. The young rascals! What is it, Tiger? Look to him, old fellow.”

While the ’squire had been examining the articles in the wagon, Tom was indulging in the hope that he might not be discovered. The dogs had not seen him climb into the tree, but they had sharp noses, and the ’squire’s exclamation had been called forth by the actions of one of the dogs, which ran to the foot of the tree, and growled and barked furiously.

“What’s up there, I say?” continued the ’squire, elevating his lantern, and peering up into the branches. “Ah, I’ve got you, you rascal! Come down from there! Who are you?”

“O, it’s me; don’t you know me, Mr. Thompson?” whined Tom, who saw that he was discovered, and that further concealment was useless.

“No, I don’t know me,” shouted the ’squire, in a most savage tone of voice; “come down from there!”

“Call your dogs off, then!” drawled Tom, “and I’ll come down.”

“Who are you?” demanded the ’squire again, for he did not recognize Tom, hidden as he was among the branches of the tree. “What’s your name?”

“O, now, I’m Tom Newcombe! Don’t you know me, Mr. Thompson?” answered the grand commander in a most pitiful voice.

“Tom Newcombe!” repeated the ’squire, in astonishment. “Why, I am surprised at you, Tom; I always thought you were a good boy, and I never imagined that you would disgrace yourself by stealing a man’s horse and wagon, and—come down from there, you young scoundrel.”

The ’squire was very much astonished when he learned the name of his prisoner; for Tom, although he had often engaged with the Night-hawks in expeditions of this kind, had never before been detected in them; he had been so sly about it, that no one in the village ever thought he had a hand in their affairs. Those who were not very intimately acquainted with Tom, looked upon him as a lazy, do-nothing sort of boy, who could not muster up energy enough to engage in any mischief; and so the ’squire, little dreaming that he had captured the one to whose charge could be laid the most of the mischief done within three miles of the village, was inclined to regard Tom as an innocent boy, who had got himself into trouble by associating with some of the young rogues of the village. For this reason he was disposed to be very easy with him; but when he remembered that Tom had made one of the number of boys who had taken his horse and wagon without his permission, it made him angry again.

“I say, come down from there, you young villain!” repeated the ’squire, shaking his cane at the culprit, as if he intended to use it on him the moment he reached the ground. “Do you hear me?”

“O, yes, I hear you!” drawled Tom; “but I sha’n’t come down till you send those dogs off.”

Seeing that Tom was resolved not to leave his perch so long as the dogs remained there, the ’squire called them into the barn and shut them up, after which he again ordered Tom to come down.

The grand commander obeyed this order very reluctantly, for he had not yet been able to decide what treatment he would receive from the ’squire. That gentleman had addressed him in the kindest possible language, and then, almost in the same breath, had called him a young scoundrel, and had shaken his cane at him, as if impatient to get an opportunity to lay it over his shoulders. He did not feel altogether safe; but now, that the dogs were gone, he could offer no excuse for remaining in the tree; so he slowly descended, and finally stood before the ’squire, who lifted his lantern and allowed its rays to fall full in his face.

“You look mean, Tommy,” said he; “don’t you feel so?”

“O, yes, I do,” drawled the grand commander.

The ’squire stood looking at his prisoner for a moment, as if undecided how to act, and finally continued:

“Go home, and remember to steer clear of bad company in future.”

Tom did not wait for a second bidding, but quickly opened the gate, and started down the road with all the speed he could command.