“Is this the right road?”
“Huah! Nope.”
“Not?”
“Nope. Right road is ’bout half a mile back.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Frank wheeled about in double quick haste. Back along the road he sent the black horse flying.
“Jeeminy!” muttered the old fellow in the wagon. “He must be in an awful hurry!”
Frank feared his pursuers would reach the junction of the two roads ahead of him and cut him off, so he pushed the black horse to its highest speed. The creature responded nobly, fairly flying over the ground.
“I wouldn’t mind owning you,” thought Merry. “Too bad you’re kept in a livery stable and let out to every Tom, Dick and Harry!”
As he approached the junction of the roads, he began looking for the pursuers. It was not long before he saw them come over a rise, and an exclamation of dismay broke from his lips.