“Hello! what's this?” I cried, drawing my revolver, fearful of an ambush.
“It's a fence,” said the driver.
“There must be a gate,” I said, jumping down quickly.
Mrs. Knapp rapped on the carriage door and I opened it.
“Have you come to the bars?” she asked presently.
“I guess so. We've come against something like a fence.”
“Well, then,” she replied, “when we get through, take the road to the left. That will bring us to the house.”
“You are certain?”
“That is what Henry wrote in the cipher beneath the map. The house must be only a few hundred yards away.”
The bars were there, and I lifted the wet and soggy boards with an anxious heart. Were we, after all, so near the hiding-place? And what were we to find?