“I didn’t suppose you were ever troubled in this part of the world by such people,” said Wagstaff.
“We aint often, but what place can you name where you don’t find bad people?”
“How long ago was it you were held up?” asked Ethan.
“About six months; fact is, I’ve felt shaky for the last week.”
“Why so?” asked Wagstaff.
“I’ve seen a suspicious character down in Black Bear Swamp.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s a piece of woods we pass through afore we reach Piketon; it jines the woods where you tell me Bob Budd has put up the tent, but it curves round and reaches the hills on t’other side.”
The words of the driver deeply interested all three of the passengers. The knowledge that, though in the State of Pennsylvania, and in a section fairly well settled, they were in danger of being “held up” in the most approved style of the wild West was enough to startle any one.
“Tell us all about it,” persisted Wagstaff, lighting a new cigarette, and leaning forward to catch the reply.