“Gone over into Bowen County until they can arrange to build again.”
“Start up, Nelson,” ordered Mr. Webb. “It’s a waste of time to loiter around here.”
Mr. Webb felt cruelly disappointed. Andy saw this and was sorry for him. He glanced at the spot where he remembered the old shed to have stood. Even the tree that had sheltered it had burned to a crisp.
“Where am I to go?” inquired Andy.
“You had better strike for Rushville,” replied Mr. Webb. “From what I remember, you can get a train to Montrose earlier than on the Central.”
“I am to go on to John Parks?”
“That’s the programme,” said Mr. Webb, trying to appear cheerful; “why not?”
Andy reflected seriously for a moment or two. Finally he spoke:
“Mr. Webb,” he said; “I hardly feel right to leave you on my bond for that big amount. Something might happen so that I could not appear for trial—trickery, or a dozen things.”
“And because you have not succeeded in recovering that pocketbook, you suppose I’m going to desert you, Nelson?” inquired the gentleman.