"Humph! I shouldn't think Milt would want to take a hand in that," muttered the Squire, reflectively.
"He don't know yet that it's to be this one, I think; but even if he did, he wouldn't dare to refuse to go along. He's taken the oath to obey the orders that are given him, an' now he'll have to do it, whether it pleases him or not. You'll have that other hundred all right when I come to see you tomorrow night or the next?"
"That's what I agreed to do, isn't it?" demanded the Squire, testily.
"Yes, of course, Squire, of course, only I wanted to remind you so you wouldn't forget to have it on hand, an' in small bills, too. A man don't feel like riskin' his neck at this business, you know, unless he's sure of gettin' well paid for it."
"You've already received more than yours is worth, I'm thinking," growled the Squire. "If things turn out all right, though, and the young man is safely jailed, I shan't mind giving you the extra hundred out of my own pocket," added he, melting into good humor again, as he rode off homeward.
CHAPTER VIII.
Early on the morning of this October court day, Sophronia Saunders, a friend and former schoolmate of the pretty toll-taker, went over to a neighbor's to see the housewife about weaving a rag carpet, the materials for which were already cut and sewed and rolled into balls ready for the loom.
Sophronia had taken an early start, for she wished to know just how much carpet chain would be needed, so that her father could bring it from town with him when he returned.