“I like it better than anything else in the world,” said Rob. “Stop a minute, Meg. Come here in the shade.”
He said the last words quickly, and pulled her to the roadside, where a big tree grew which threw a deep shadow. He stood listening.
“It’s wheels!” he whispered. “There is a buggy coming. We mustn’t let any one see us.”
It was a buggy, they could tell that by the lightness of the wheels, and it was coming rapidly. They could hear voices—men’s voices—and they drew back and stood very close to each other.
“Do you think they have found out, and sent some one after us?” whispered Meg, breathlessly.
“No,” answered Robin, though his heart beat like a triphammer. “No, no, no.”
The wheels drew nearer, and they heard one of the men speaking.
“Chicago by sunrise,” he was saying, “and what I don’t see of it won’t be worth seeing.”
The next minute the fast-trotting horse spun swiftly down the road, and carried the voices out of hearing. Meg and Robin drew twin sighs of relief. Robin spoke first.
“It is some one who is going to the Fair,” he said.