“Andy, you had better let Pete carry your roll,” said Jack. “You’ll have trouble enough keeping up with us with that sore hip of yours.”
“Sure, I’ll carry his stuff,” answered the farmhand readily.
“Sorry to cut your outing up here short,” said Jack to Gif and Spouter, as the party trudged along.
“Oh, don’t say a word about that, Jack!” cried Spouter. “We expected to go back in a day or two, anyhow. Our only concern is this bad news. I hope the hold-up proves to be a small affair.”
Hiking along in the direction of the Jandle farm, the boys could think of nothing but the news Pete Apgar had brought and indulged in all sorts of speculations concerning what had taken place.
When they came in sight of the Jandle farm they found Bill Jandle ready with his flivver, a dilapidated affair that looked as if it might fall apart at any moment. Near him stood his wife and his red-headed son.
“On hand, as I said I’d be,” said the farmer to Apgar. And then he grinned at the boys as he added: “This will give me a chance to pay you back for shooting them pesky crows.”
“Wisht I was going with you, Pop,” said the red-headed boy wistfully.
“Got to put it off till another time, Tommy,” returned his father. “We’re going to have one mighty load as it is.”
“If you can’t carry all of us I’ll walk,” declared Gif. “Pete, here, can show me the way.”