He was anxious to interview Barker. What did the man know about him and about his father?
“I’ll make him tell,” muttered Bob to himself. “And I’ll make him prove what he says, too. I don’t intend to be a nobody any longer.”
Bob followed John Wright to his home. Here he was invited to partake of breakfast, which he did willingly, for the events of the past hours had sharpened his appetite.
Having finished the meal, Bob started back toward the Dalmer house, to see how Frank Landes was progressing. He sincerely hoped his newly-found friend would speedily recover from the injuries he had received.
About half-way down the road he espied a rickety turn-out approaching. He thought he knew the rig, and he was not mistaken.
It was Joel Carrow’s turn-out, and on the seat sat the miserly farmer, looking meaner than ever.
“I wonder what he’ll do when he sees me?” thought Bob.
Joel Carrow’s horse approached on a slow trot, and the farmer was not long in espying the youth.
Bob eyed him sharply, as he stepped aside to let the wagon pass. He was about to speak, but changed his mind.
“What are yer doin’ here, yer young whelp?” was Carrow’s salutation, as he pulled up.