"We're from Elmwood Hall," replied Tom. "We were out on a cross-country run, and we lost our way. Can you direct us to the river road?"

"Which way did you come," the rasping voice went on, and a man, with a small bunch of whiskers on his chin, stood in the lamp-illuminated doorway.

"Through the woods," said Tom. "We got lost there."

"And then we cut through a cornfield," went on Jack.

"Through a cornfield!" cried the farmer in accents of anger. "D'ye mean t' say you tromped through my field of corn?"

"I--I'm afraid we did," answered Tom ruefully. "We couldn't see in the dark, and it was the only way to come. I hope we didn't do much damage."

"Well, if ye did ye'll pay for it!" snapped the man, as he came from the doorway. "I don't allow n.o.body t' tromp through my prize corn.

I'll have th' law on ye fer this, that's what I will! Knocked down my corn; did ye? Well, ye kin find th' road the best way ye like now.

I'll never tell ye. And I want t' see how much damage ye done. You wait till I git a lantern. Tromped through my corn! That's jest like you good-fer-nothin' school snips! I'll fix ye fer this all right, or my name ain't Jed Appleby!"

CHAPTER X

A HAY STACK FIRE

Cold, wet and altogether miserable, Tom and his chums stood in the farmer's yard, waiting for they scarcely knew what. Their reception had been anything but cordial, and, considering that they were unaware that they had done any damage to the field of corn, it was almost unwarranted.

"Well, what do you know about this?" asked Bert, as he took off his cap and dashed the rain drops from it.

"I don't know much," replied Jack, dubiously as he turned the collar of his coat closer up around his neck.

"He's a cheerful chap--not," murmured George.

"He might at least treat us decently," said Tom, and there was a note of defiance in his voice. "If we've damaged his corn I'm willing to pay for it, but he might at least direct us to the road."

"That's right," chimed in Jack. "What's he doing now?"

"Getting a lantern, from the looks of things," replied Bert. The farmer had gone to the barn and in a few moments he returned carrying a light that swung to and fro, casting queer fantastic shadows on the rain-soaked ground.

"Now I'll see what sort of damage ye done t' my corn!" grumbled the man. "I don't see what right a pa.s.sel of youngsters have t' tramp through a man's field for, anyhow?"

"We got lost, I told you!" exclaimed Tom, a bit provoked. "We didn't do it on purpose. If we've done any damage we're responsible for it."

"Yes, I know what that means!" sneered the man. By this time he was at the fence over which the boys had leaped into his yard, and, swinging the lantern about, he endeavored to see how much damage had been done to his corn.

"Tromped down! A whole pa.s.sel of ye tromped it down!" he muttered. "I thought so, an' that's my best field, too! I've a notion t' have ye arrested fer trespa.s.s."

"Oh, be sensible," ripped out Tom, who was fast losing his temper, a thing that seldom occurred to him. "Tell us what the damage is, and I'll settle. And then tell us how we can get on the river road, and back to Elmwood Hall."

"Huh! A nice lot of school boys you are!" sneered the, man. "Th' fust thing they ought t' teach ye is manners! Spilin' a man's corn!"

"Can't you say what the damage is?" put in Jack.

"No, I can't--not until mornin', anyhow."

"Then tell us how to get on the right road, and you can send your bill to Elmwood Hall. Fairfield is my name--Tom Fairfield," cried our hero.

"Oh, I'll send you the bill all right," snapped the farmer. "I'll attend to that, and ye'll pay th' last cent due, too, let me tell you that!"

"All right," agreed Tom with a sigh. "I suppose you'll charge us double, but we've got to expect that from such as you."

"What do you mean?" snapped, the man swinging his lantern up so he could see Tom's face.

"You know what I mean! You don't seem to want to be reasonable. Now, if it's all the same to you, will you kindly direct us to the right road? And as soon as your bill comes in I'll settle it, though I want to say that we had no idea of injuring your corn, and wouldn't have gotten into your field but that we got lost."

"Huh! That's a likely story. I know you fresh young school squabs!"

"Oh, where's the road?" asked Tom impatiently. "We don't care much for your opinions!"

"Find it yourself!" snapped the man. "I'll not show you, and the sooner you get off my property the better for you!"

"Humph! I can't say that I admire your disposition," spoke Tom, in exasperation, for he was cold and wet, and the prospect of reporting in late, and making a failure of the cross-country run, was not pleasant.

"None of your sa.s.s!" growled the man. "Be off, now, or I'll turn the dogs loose!"

With another took at the trampled rows of corn he went into the house, taking the lantern with him, and shutting the door after him. It seemed darker than ever in the farmyard with the light gone, and the rain was coming down in torrents.

"Nice prospect!" murmured George.

"What are we going to do?" asked Bert.

"He's the man with the original grouch all right," contributed Jack.

"Where'll we go?"

"Over this way!" called Tom, who had been looking about. "I think I see something like a gate leading into a lane. It may take us to a road. Come on."

They followed him, splashing through the mud puddles and darkness.

Then came a flash of lightning, which showed them the lane in question.

It did lead into the road, and a little later they were on the river highway, headed toward the Hall.

"Let's run and get warmed up," proposed Bert, and they set off on a dog trot.

"I wonder if any of the others are as badly off as we are?" spoke Jack.

"I hope not," came from George.

"I suppose we're out of the running," remarked Bert. "It must be after eight."

"Half-past," said Tom, managing to see the dial of his watch by a lightning flash.

"Ugh!" grunted Jack. "It's all up with us."