"Oh, they may. If they do, you're from--let me see--Blackberry Hill, remember?"

"All right--with a load of garden truck, eh?" propounded Bart ingeniously.

"You hit it correct. What we want you to do is this: Drive down to the main road, and turn west. Keep on straight ahead, and don't turn anywhere. About nine miles west you'll hit Hamilton. Drive right through the town, but as soon as you get out of it take the first branch south from the turnpike, and keep on till you reach an old mill on the river.

Wait for us there."

"Why," said Bart, "aren't you going with me?"

"No," answered Buck Tolliver definitely.

"Why not?"

"None of your business," snapped out Hank.

"Oh!"

"You mind yours, strictly, or there will be trouble," warned Buck, and Bart saw from the look in his hard face that he was a dangerous man, once aroused. "You do this job with neatness and dispatch, and it will mean a good deal more than a dollar."

"Crackey!" cried Bart, snapping the whip hilariously--"maybe this is one of those story-book happenings where a fellow strikes fame and fortune!"

"Maybe it is," a.s.sented Buck drily.

Bart climbed up to the seat. He started up the horse, the Tollivers following after the wagon till they reached the main road.

"When I get to the mill--" began Bart.

"We'll be there to meet you," announced Buck Tolliver.

"I don't see," growled Hank in an undertone to his brother, "why we would take any risk riding under that gra.s.s."

"You leave this affair to me," retorted Buck. "If the kid gets through all right, then we're all right, aren't we?"

"I suppose so."

"And we've got to wait as we agreed--for Wacker."

Bart had just turned into the main road. At the mention of that ominous name, the young express agent brought the whip down upon the horse's flanks with a sharp snap.

CHAPTER XX

BART ON THE ROAD

"Get up!"

The rig that Bart was driving sped along the dusty country road at a good sharp pace.

The young express agent was undergoing the most vivid mental perturbation of his career.

He kept whistling a jolly air, with a sidelong glance observed that his recent companions had turned back towards their camp in the clearing, and then, dropping his a.s.sumption of the reckless young adventurer, stared seriously ahead and began to figure out the situation in all its details.

What had come about was quite natural and ordinary: the Tollivers were anxious to get further away from the scene of their recent crime, to a safer and more obscure haunt than the open camp in the woods.

They dared not take the journey in the day time, as they did not wish to be seen by anyone and Bart coming along, they had caught at the idea of sending him on with the wagon and its load.

If Bart got through in safety, they could a.s.sume that the hunt for the missing trunk was not very active, or had been started in some other direction.

Bart had comprehended that they could take a short cut to the old mill.

He had actually laughed to himself at the ease with which he had obtained possession of the trunk, until they had mentioned that ominous name: Lem Wacker.

"They are going to wait for Wacker!" murmured Bart, as he urged on the horse. "That means that they expect him soon, for they calculate on being at the old mill as soon as I can make it by road. When he does come, and they tell him about me, he's sure to guess the truth. Then it's three to one--get up!"

Bart did not allow the horse to lag, but his best pace was a poor shambling trot. All the time Bart thought deeply and practically.

"I have decided," he spoke definitely after a quarter of an hour. "I shall turn to my left the first road I come to. The B. & M. does not touch short of eight miles from here, but somewhere to the southeast is Clyde Station. Once there, I'll risk the rest."

The road was not an easy one. It was not very smooth, and grew more stony and rutty as he proceeded, and there was a sharp climb for the horse as they reached a hilly landscape.

Bart halted finally. A road branched to the left. It did not look very inviting, nor did it seem to be much in use, but as it led away from the main highway, it broke the trail, and without hesitation he turned the horse's head in the direction of Clyde Station.

The country was open here, all rocks, gullies and pits. He was surprised to observe how little distance he had really put between himself and the Tolliver camp as the road wound out along the crest of a hill.

He jumped out to lighten the load and coax up the horse. Then he stood stock-still, straining his eyes across the valley.

"I declare!" said Bart in a tone of profound concern, "I got away just in time, but if that is Lem Wacker, he has appeared on the scene just ten minutes too soon to suit me."

Over at the break in the woods a man had appeared from the direction of Millville. He was waving a hand, and then placing it to his mouth as though hailing someone, probably the Tollivers at the camp.

Then he turned straight around. If Bart could read anything at that distance, he could certainly trace that the man was looking fixedly at the red wagon, and the white horse, and himself.

If it was Lem Wacker--and Bart believed that it was--just one thing was in order: to get that trunk to some town, to some station, to some friendly farmhouse, in hiding anywhere, before the pursuit, sure to follow, was started.

Bart ran on, with a last glance at the lone distant figure. He could not afford to wait to see if the Tollivers joined it. Every minute was precious.

"Where is the horse?" exclaimed Bart.

Dobbin had "got up." While Bart was surveying the landscape, the old animal had plodded on, and was now out of sight.

Bart ran along the road. It turned between two walls of slate. Then came the open again. Here the road descended somewhat. The horse stood at a halt. He had run easily a few rods, one wheel had struck a deep rut, and the wagon had broken down. It lay tilted over on one side, one wheel completely caved in.

Bart was dismayed. He reflected for a moment, and then followed the road ahead for about a hundred feet.

It turned through some slate heaps, lined the side of a deep excavation, and came to an abrupt end where some boards, placed crosswise, barred the sheer descent.

Just such a valley spread out beyond the barrier as on the other edge of the hill whence Bart had seen the man he believed to be Lem Wacker.