The place showed evidences of having been used as a camp, but not
recently, and Bart went on a general blind hunt.
He traversed the woods for miles, both sides of a dried up rivercourse,
and inquired at farmhouses and of occasional pedestrians he met.
It was all of no avail. At three o'clock in the afternoon, tired,
bramble-torn and a little discouraged, he sat down by the roadside to
rest and think. He began to censure himself for taking the independent
course he had pursued.
"I should have telegraphed the company the circumstances of the
burglary, and put the matter in the hands of the Pleasantville police,"
he reflected. "If the trunk had belonged to anybody except Mrs. Colonel
Harrington, I would have done so at once. Somebody coming!" he
interrupted his soliloquy, as he caught a vague movement through the
shrubbery where the road curved.
"No--it's only a dog."
The animal came into view going a straight, fast course, its head
drooping, a broken rope trailing from its neck.
Bart suddenly sprang to his feet, for, studying the animal more closely,
something familiar presented itself and he ran out into the middle of
the road.
Pages:
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129