"Shucks! what do you take me for? All I thought of doing was to cut a switch by the roadside, which we could use to send the old nag on a little faster; but since you are so shy about it we'll drop the subject. Give me the lines, and let's see if I can coax a little more speed out of Lazybones."
Lanky gladly released the reins; but it might be noticed that he did not allow his feet to trail under the buggy seat again. Imagination or not, he meant to keep clear of any entanglement in case one of those desperate men reached in to lay hold of that old leather traveling bag.
"Get up, Dobbin!" said Frank, slapping the lines on the back of the slow-going animal, and awakening him from his trance, so that for a dozen yards he actually set a smart pace; but only to fall back again into the regular jogging movement.
"He isn't lazy, but tired to death. Guess we better let the poor beast take his time, or he may drop in the shafts," grunted Lanky, noticing these things.
Every minute he was peering out from the upraised hood of the buggy.
"See anything, Sister Ann?" asked Frank, mockingly.
"I thought I did just then. Looked like a shadow alongside the road; but I guess I must have been mistaken," replied the other, in a tense voice.
"Cut it out, Lanky. You're like the youngster that took to seeing things in the night, all kinds of terrible monsters. It's nonsense, I tell you. Better be putting your mind on how it'll feel to row in that brand-new eight-oared shell to-morrow. As for me I can hardly wait for morning to come, to see that darling boat."
Frank was evidently desirous of quieting the nerves of his excited companion; and went about it in this way. They had passed over nearly half a mile since coming so unexpectedly into possession of the buggy, and ere long the outlying houses marking the confines of Columbia would be bobbing up in view.
"Frank!" suddenly whispered Lanky, hoarsely.