Lumbering along was a huge heavy hay rack on top of which perched a farmer chewing a straw. Following along after him was a dog of a peculiar shepherd breed which I did not recognize. Atop of the hay the old fellow had piled a trunk and a basket.
To our surprise the hay rack stopped before the house. "Miss Dodge?" drawled the farmer nasally.
"Why, what do you suppose he can want?" asked Elaine moving out toward the wagon while we followed. "Yes?"
"Here's a trunk, Miss Dodge, with your name on it," he went on dragging it down. "I found it down by the railroad track."
It was the trunk marked "E. Dodge" which had been thrown off the train, taken by Del Mar and rifled by the motor-cyclist.
"How do you suppose it ever got here?" cried Elaine in wonder.
"Must have fallen off the train," I suggested. "You might have collected the insurance under this new baggage law!"
"Jennings," called Elaine. "Get Patrick and carry the trunk in."
Together the butler and the gardener dragged it off.
"Thank you," said Elaine, endeavoring to pay the farmer.