“That's like enough,” said Dicky ruefully. “But if they've got him, we might as well take the back tracks for town and hunt up a sheriff or two, or send for the boys to come over.”
“It's too late to do that,” said I decidedly. “We must go on at once.”
“Well,” said Dicky dubiously, “I think I know where the fellow would have taken us. I trailed him this afternoon, and I'll lay two to one that I can pick out the right road.”
“Is this the third road from Brooklyn?” I asked pointing to the track that led to the left.
“I reckon so,” said Dicky. “I haven't kept count, but I recollect only two before it.”
“All right. Up with you then!”
Dicky obediently mounted to the seat beside the driver.
“I shall ride outside,” I said to Mrs. Knapp. “I may be needed.”
“I suppose you are right,” she replied with somewhat of protest in her voice, and I closed the door, and climbed up. It was close quarters for three, but at the word the horses, refreshed by the brief rest, rolled the carriage up the road that led to the hills.
Half a mile farther we passed a house, and within a quarter of a mile another.