"You can ride just as well as not," urged the farmer. "I aint got no load."
"Thank you! I don't care to ride," replied Frank, rather impatiently. "I am in no hurry."
The man lingered as if he wanted to say something else, but finally turned and went back to his wagon, followed by Maje, who looked over his shoulder and growled savagely at Frank, by way of bidding him good-night.
Presently the sound of wheels on the hard road told Frank that the farmer's wagon was in motion.
He waited until the sound grew faint in the distance, and after looking up and down the road to make sure that there was no one else coming, uttered a low whistle.
In a few minutes Leon came up, and the two resumed their walk toward Franklin. This was the first and last adventure that befell the boys during their journey to the frontier.
They reached the town of Franklin in a little less than two hours, and there they purchased tickets for Albany, at which place—so they were told—they could procure through tickets to St. Louis.
The train arrived an hour later, and in five minutes more the runaways were being carried rapidly toward the happy hunting-grounds of which they had so often dreamed.
When they arrived at St. Louis, they boarded a steamer which carried them up the Missouri River, and in due time they found themselves, with their valises in their hands and their guns on their shoulders, standing on the levee at St. Joseph, at which point they had decided to fit out for the plains.
Had they enjoyed themselves during their trip? Certainly not. No one could take pleasure in a railroad or steamboat ride under such circumstances.