until they were within a dozen feet of the students. Then they lined up, growled fiercely, and showed their teeth.
"Let us get into the barn," suggested Roger, and flung open a door that was handy. Into the building they went pell-mell, Dave being the last to enter. One dog made a dart at the youth's leg, but Dave gave him a kick that sent him back. Then the door was slammed shut and latched, and the students found themselves in utter darkness.
"Wonder if they can get in any other way?" asked Phil, after a second of silence, during which they heard the dogs barking outside.
"I doubt if any of the doors are open in this storm," answered Shadow.
"Let us get up in—in the loft!" suggested Nat Poole. He was as white as the snow outside and his teeth were chattering from something else besides the cold.
"That's a good idea," said Dave. "But we must have a light to learn where the loft is. Anybody got a match?"
Nobody had such an article, and a groan went up. Nat Poole was appealed to, for the others knew he had been smoking on the train.
"My matchbox is empty," said he. "I am going to hunt for the loft ladder in the dark."
"Be careful, or you may run into some troublesome horse," cautioned Dave.
