Little Peter had given his warning, so he said no more, but bidding the miller good-day, he spoke to his horses and at once departed.
His load was heavier now than when he had come, and consequently he was compelled to let his horses walk. Even then the sweltering beasts labored heavily under the intense heat, and he was compelled to stop frequently and permit them to rest in some cool and shady spot.
His own fears had not departed, however, but every turn of the heavy wheels brought him nearer to the main road, and once there he thought he would be safe. Already one of the three miles had been left behind him, and he was about to start on, after the brief rest he had given the horses, when he was startled by the sound of something breaking through the bushes that lined the road in front of him.
Tremblingly he waited a moment, gazing with frightened face at the place in the road where the man, or animal, or whatever it was, would first appear. His suspense was not relieved when a horse and rider broke through the bushes and stopped only a few yards in advance of him.
Little Peter's face was deadly pale when he instantly recognized the man as none other than Lewis Fenton himself. He noted the great size, the broad shoulders, the powerful arms, for the pine robber was riding without a coat, and his shirt-sleeves were rolled back, disclosing the great bunches of muscles; but more than all else the brutal face terrified him.
Before he could speak or move, Fenton leaped to the ground, and leaving his horse by the roadside approached the wagon.
"How now, young man? Give an account of yourself. Where you going? Who are you? As I live, if it isn't Little Peter Van Mater!" he added in evident astonishment.
As he spoke, he grasped the frightened lad by the shoulder and dragged him to the ground. Then the brutal, cowardly man struck him two savage blows. The sight of the woods and even of the pine robber faded from Little Peter's eyes, and the unconscious boy dropped heavily upon the sand. Even then Fenton was not satisfied, for again and again he kicked the body, apparently not yet convinced that life was extinct.
But Little Peter suffered no pain. With sightless eyes, his blood-stained face looked up at the blue sky above the treetops, but neither the passing clouds nor the further actions of the brutal pine robber were heeded by the lad.