"Stop 'em! Stop 'em!" But it was too late.

Out the gate sprinted them poor devoted chickens, and up the road they trailed in vain pursuit.

The last we seen of 'em was a mingling of dust and dim figgers goin' thirty mile an hour after a disappearin' automobeel.
That was all we seen for the moment.

About three o'clock the first straggler came limpin' in, his wings hangin', his mouth open, his eyes glazed with the heat.

By sundown fourteen had returned.