"Hold on," directed Frank; "there's a crossing plank a little way farther down the stream."
"I'm wet, anyway," explained the boy, dashing into the water, and he came up to Frank, dripping to the waist.
"Don't be scared," said Frank, as his companion looked in a worried way in the direction the tramp had taken. "That fellow will be too busy with those hornets for some time to come, I'm thinking, to mind us."
"Oh, I hope so," said the lad with a shudder. "He's a terrible man. I must get away from here at once."
As he spoke the boy ran to where the wagon stood and climbed upon its front seat. As Frank, keeping up with his pace, neared the vehicle, he noticed across its box top the words: "Saws, knives, scissors and tools sharpened scientifically."
"I wish you would stay with me until I get to town," remarked the boy, seizing the lines with many a timid look back of him.
"Oh, you want to get to town, do you?" observed Frank. "All right, I'll be glad to show you the road."
The boy started up the horse with a sharp snap of the lines. The animal was old and lazy, however, and could not go beyond a very slow trot.
"Turn at that point in the rise," directed Frank, pointing ahead a little distance, "and it will be a shorter cut to town."
"Yes, yes. I want to get away from here," said Ned Foreman anxiously. "Oh, there he is again!"