As time went by Ward Porton, on the alert for the possible appearance of the owner of the barn, became more and more anxious, and twice he went out in the roadway to see if his companion was anywhere in sight.

140

“It would be just like him to go off and get full of liquor,” muttered the young man, with a scowl. “I really ought to part company with him. But when he is perfectly sober he certainly is a slick one,” he continued meditatively.

To pass the time the young man made a thorough search of the overcoat which he had stolen from Dave. He had already discovered a fine pair of gloves and had worn them. Now, in an inner pocket, he located a card-case containing half a dozen addresses, some postage stamps, and some of Dave’s visiting cards. There were also two cards which had been blank, and on each of these, written in Dave’s bold hand, was the following:

Signature of
David Porter,
Crumville.

“Hello! what’s this?” mused the former moving-picture actor, as he gazed at the written cards. Then suddenly his face brightened. “Oh, I see! It’s one of those cards that I heard about––the kind he has been distributing among the storekeepers in an effort to catch me. Say, one of these may come in handy when I go for those miniatures!” he continued.

At last he heard a noise outside, and looking in that direction saw Tim Crapsey approaching in a 141 somewhat dilapidated cutter, drawn, however, by a powerful-looking bay horse.

“Had a fierce time gittin’ this horse,” announced the man, as he came to a halt beside the barn. “The livery stable man didn’t want to let him go out, and I had to tell him a long yarn about somebody bein’ sick and my havin’ to git a doctor. And I had to offer him double price, too!” and at his own ruse the man chuckled hoarsely.

He had brought with him some sandwiches and doughnuts, and also a bottle of hot coffee, and on these both made a somewhat limited breakfast, the man washing the meal down with another drink from his flask.

“I kept my word––I didn’t drink a drop when I was in town,” he croaked. “But say, this is mighty dry work!”