“Maybe I did.”
“And had them checked on railroad tickets?”
“No, Buster went one way, and the bags went tudder—leas’wise so I was given to understand. Maybe he done it to put me off the track,” continued Isaac Dowling.
“But where did the bags go to?” demanded Dave. “Come, out with it, Mr. Dowling. I give you my word that I am acting for Buster’s good. I wouldn’t get him into trouble for the world. He is my chum, and so are those other boys my friends.”
“Well, you look honest, boy, so I’ll tell ye. The baggage was sent by express to a place called Camptown Falls, in Maine.”
“Camptown Falls!” cried Roger. Then he 216 looked at Dave, who nodded, to show that he understood.
“Did Buster say he was going elsewhere?” queried Dave.
“He didn’t say so, exactly. But he mentioned Boston, an’ I thought he was goin’ there.”
“He left on the train?”
“No, he didn’t! He went off in the darkness, an’ that’s the last I see o’ him,” concluded Isaac Dowling, as a hail came for him to come into the house.