"Well, who would—under the circumstances!" exclaimed the old man, in deep disgust.
"Perhaps they don't give him the credit he deserves," said Pickley, thinking he must say something in favor of the squire's son.
Ralph and Sanderson had their own opinion of Percy, and they did not care to argue with Pickley on the subject. The young bridge tender went back to his work, and Sanderson shuffled off to go at an odd job of boat-mending. Pickley sat down to count the tolls as before.
Three minutes later Percy Paget came into sight. His hands and face were scratched and his clothing torn.
"See anything of a runaway?" he cried, as he came up to Pickley.
"Yes; the team was stopped right here," replied the man.
"Who stopped 'em?"
"Ralph Nelson."
"You don't mean it?" gasped the young aristocrat.
"Yes, I do."