“That’s so, too. We haven’t any idea where Jinks went. That was her name—Jinksey. She doesn’t look much like Old Peggy; but she was worth a hundred and fifty dollars, if she was worth a cent! More than father could easily afford to lose. And then—Otto really owned her—or would have owned her when he came of age. Father had promised Jinks to him.”
“It’s a shame!” cried Laura, always sympathetic. “And you have no suspicion as to who could have taken her?”
“No. Down beyond the store—beyond Robinson’s Woods, you know—there is a settlement of people who have a hard name. They rob the gardens and orchards on the edge of town——”
“Toward Centerport, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“The Four Corners’ crowd!” cried Laura.
“Yes.”
“Oh, that gang are a bad lot. Once Chet and I motored through there and an ugly fellow named Pocock came out and fired a charge of bird-shot into a rear tire. He said an auto had been through there the week before and killed his pig, and he was going to shoot at every machine he saw. We’ve never taken that road again.”
“That Hebe Pocock is an awfully bad fellow,” said Eve, seriously. “He tried to work for us once, but father wouldn’t keep him more than a day. And he’s been mad at us ever since.”
“Maybe some of those fellows in that gang stole your Jinksey.”