“About eighteen miles, I should think.”
“Can you get there by rail?”
“Within two miles of it.”
“Why, yes, sir,” replied Andy, glancing at his watch. “There is a train west in a quarter of an hour.”
“At any expense,” said Mr. West earnestly, “get there and return with the pocketbook. As to your reward——”
“Don’t speak of it,” said Andy. “Mr. Webb treated me handsomely when I brought him over to Macon. I can’t imagine, though, why he puts so much store by the pocketbook.”
“If you find it, he will tell you why,” responded Mr. West. “You will be doing the best piece of work you ever did in finding that pocketbook. I shall telegraph my client to come here at once. He will be here by four o’clock.”
“And I will be here not more than an hour later,” said Andy.
He left the office on a brisk walk, planning his proposed route to the old farm. As he reached the street, he again glanced at his watch and found he had just ten minutes to reach the depot. Andy made a running spurt down the pavement.