“Ben,” he said, “I got a description of one of the men who drove the wagon, and I know who he is.”
“You do?” exclaimed Ben.
“Yes—the man I told you about seeing, the day Harry was in swimming, and I discovered the tattoo marks on his shoulder.”
“You don’t say so!”
“I am pretty sure of it,” declared Tom.
“That being true, it connects with the ‘Donner’ business!” cried Ben. “The sun, moon and stars message.”
“Perhaps. If Harry is really the Ernest Warren they have been telegraphing about, someone was trying to find him.”
“And they’ve done it, and gotten him!” cried Ben excitedly. “We’ll never see him again, and we’ll never know the mystery about him.”
“You give up too easily, Ben,” said Tom, and then he hastened to meet his father, who at that moment drove into the farm yard.
Mr. Barnes was a peculiar man. He was wilful and went to extremes where his likes and dislikes were involved. He had taken a great fancy to the busy, buoyant lad he had hired, and at once manifested the deepest interest in the particulars of the strange disappearance of Harry Ashley.