Chapter 20

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 assumption 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 assume 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.

Here, however, the landscape was barren in the extreme. There was not a house visible.

Bart was in a dilemma, but he decided how he would act. He first ran back to the spot whence he had last viewed the break in the woods.

A glance stirred him up to prompt and decisive action.

Three men were now in view. They were running at their top bent of speed up the road he had taken.

"Lem Wacker and the Tollivers, sure!" murmured Bart. "They know the wagon is up here somewhere, and they will be here in less than half an hour."

Bart's one idea now was to locate some pit or cranny where he could stow the trunk where it could not be readily found.

This done, he would start on foot in the direction of Clyde Station to get assistance and return before his enemies discovered it.

There were all kinds of holes and heaps around him, but too open and public to his way of thinking. Exploring, he came to the board barrier again, climbed over it, and more critically than before scanned the fifty-foot descent, and what lay at the bottom.

"Why!" said Bart, in some astonishment, "there's a railroad track--"

He leaned over, and scrutinizingly ran his eye along the dull brown stretch of raised rails.

"And a hand car!" shouted the young express agent joyfully.