“Tell the captain to wait here for us with fires up,” said Mrs. Knapp. “The carriage should be somewhere around here,” she continued, peering anxiously about as we reached the foot of the wharf.
The low buildings by the railroad track were but piles of blackness, and about them I could see nothing.
“This way,” said a familiar voice, and a man stepped from the shadow.
“Dicky Nahl!” I exclaimed.
“Mr. Wilton!” mimicked Dicky. “But it's just as well not to speak so loud. Here you are. I put the hack's lights out just to escape unpleasant remark. We had better be moving, for it's a stiffish drive of six or seven miles. If you'll get in, I'll keep the seat with the driver and tell him the way to go.”
Mrs. Knapp entered the carriage, and called to me to follow her.
I remembered Mother Borton's warnings and my doubts of Dicky Nahl.
“You're certain you know where you are going?” I asked him in an undertone.
“No, I'm not,” said Dicky frankly. “I've found a man who says he knows. We are to meet him. We'll get there between three and four o'clock. He won't say another word to anybody but her or you. I guess he knows what he is about.”
“Well, keep your eyes open. Meeker's gang is ahead of us. Is the driver reliable?”