“’Bout two miles.”
“Can you take us over in a carriage? We’ll pay you, of course.”
“To be sure! But, say, honestly, I didn’t have nuthin’ to do with carryin’ her off!” cried the old farmer.
“I believe you,” answered Dick. “But it’s a pity you didn’t report what you knew to the Cedarville police.”
“I didn’t want to git in no trouble.”
“Want me any more?” asked Caleb Belcher.
“We may want you,” answered Dick. “Stay here for a couple of hours, anyway.”
“My price is twenty-five cents an hour.”
“All right—and there’s a dollar on account,” and Dick passed the money over.
A fairly good horse and wagon were brought from the barn, and the boys and Tony Carew got in. Then the horse was urged forward, and over the uneven road they bumped, in the direction of the village of Shaville, a sleepy community, with one store, a blacksmith shop, a church, and about a dozen cottages.