"What's the ticket, Captain?" he inquired of Buck, looking him squarely
in the face.
"You seem to know enough not to answer questions about yourself,"
observed Buck--"try and be as clever if anybody quizzes you about this
wagon."
"Why should they?"
"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.
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