“Right up that way,” and the countryman waved his hand to the northwest.
“Along the river still,” said the freight agent. “I thought so.”
He was about to drive on when Matt stopped him.
“Did you notice who was driving the wagon?” he called back.
“Yes, a tall man kind of shabbily dressed.”
“Must be Barberry,” muttered the young auctioneer.
“What’s the trouble?” questioned the countryman curiously.
“The turn-out has been stolen, that’s the trouble,” replied the boy, and off they sped again, leaving the old countryman staring after them in open-mouthed wonder.
They turned from the main road, which about half a mile back had led away from the Delaware, and took the side road the old man had indicated. It was an uneven wagon track, and they went bumping over rocks and stumps of trees in a most alarming fashion.