The youngster was right, and by the time the boys were outside the mare was standing meekly by the barn door, waiting to be put in her stall.
“Now ain’t she aggravatin’?” came from Mrs. Dugan. “Ye can’t bate her when she looks loike that, can ye? Poor Kitty! It’s a fool thing that ye are entoirely!” And she hurried out, opened the stable and let the mare find her proper place inside. “Fer sech a thrick, ye’ll git only half yer supper this night,” she added, shaking her fist at the animal.
The boys knew that they would be expected home, and waited anxiously for news of the Dugans. Fully an hour and a half passed, before they came back, worn out and downcast.
“They give us the shlip,” said Andy Dugan. “They came around be the lake road an’ thet’s the last we could find av thim.”
“And I guess that’s the last of my watch,” added Joe, soberly.
Andy Dugan had a faithful old horse in his stable and this animal he harnessed to his family carriage, an old affair that had seen far better days.
“Ye can drive yerselves home,” he said. “An’ leave the turnout at Bennett’s stable. Tell him I’ll call for it to-morrow.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dugan,” said Joe. “We’ll settle for the keeping, and get father to pay you——”
“That’s all right, Joe. I want no pay. Your father is a fri’nd av mine. I’m sorry we didn’t catch the thramps, that’s all,” was Andy Dugan’s reply.
It was not until nine o’clock at night that Joe and Harry drove into the town of Lakeport. All the stores were closed, but the livery stable was still open, and there they left the horse and carriage, as Andy Dugan had directed. It was but a short walk from the stable to the house.