"I'll jest walk up an' rap on the door," said Anderson Crow, "lettin' on
to be a tramp. I'll ast fer somethin' to eat an' a place to sleep. While
I'm out there in the kitchen eatin' you fellers c'n sneak up an'
surround us. Then you c'n let on like you're lookin' fer me because I'd
robbed a hen-roost er something, an' that'll get 'em off their guard.
Once we all git inside the house with these shotguns we've got 'em where
we want 'em. Then I'll make 'em purduce the body."
"Don't we git anythin' to eat, too?" demanded Isaac Porter faintly.
"The horses ain't had nothin' to eat, Ike," said Anderson. "Ain't you as
good as a horse?"
CHAPTER XIV
A Case of Mistaken Identity
Detective Crow found little difficulty in gaining admittance to Colonel
Randall's summer home. He had secreted his badge, and it was indeed a
sorry-looking tramp who asked for a bite to eat at the kitchen door.
Three or four young women were busy with chafing dishes in this
department of the house, and some good-looking young men were looking on
and bothering them with attentions. In the front part of the house a
score of people were laughing and making merry.
"Gosh!" said the new tramp, twisting his chin whiskers, "how many of you
are there?"
"Oh, there are many more at home like us," trilled out one of the young
women gaily. "You're just in time, you poor old thing, to have some of
the bride-to-be's cake.
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