Along the street came two runaway horses, attached to a carriage. In front of the restaurant they crashed into another team, and there was a rush to see how much damage had been done. The attention of every one seemed diverted toward the front.
Frank had observed an open door at the back of the room, and through this he quickly sprang, ran along a narrow passage, and burst into the kitchen.
"Hello, here!" cried the cook, in astonishment. "What's the matter?"
"Terrible smashup, out in front," replied the boy. "Don't know how many have been killed. It is awful!"
"That so?" came stupidly from the bewildered man in white. "How did it—— Well, he was in a hurry!"
But Frank had sprung out by an open door and was gone.
The boy reached a side street, sprinted round a corner, doubled and turned at every opportunity, and settled to a swift walk.
He soon discovered which direction he should take without having asked to be directed toward any particular point.
"This is an unpleasant scrape," muttered the boy; "and it came about through my readiness to exchange my good money for bad. If I remain in this town I am liable to be arrested at any moment."
He wondered what Bart would say when he was told. What could Bart think about a girl who carried two bright new counterfeit fifty-dollar bills in her purse?