"But I hain't got you to nowhere yet!" protested the farmer. He had finally decided in his own mind that these were railroad managers planning projects, with an eye on his own farm. He wanted to carry them where he could exhibit them to some one who could inform him.
But the Duke promptly drew Harlan along into the shadows, and a farmer hampered with a two-seated carriage is not equipped for the trail. They heard the complaining squeal of iron against iron as he turned to go back home.
"We've come here to call on a man," stated the Duke, after they had walked for a little time.
"On ex-Governor Waymouth, I suppose," Harlan suggested, quietly.
The old man chuckled.
"How long have you been suspecting that?"
"Ever since I heard Burnside mentioned, of course."
"Good! You guessed and kept still about it. You've got the makings of a politician, and you are learning fast. Now what do you suppose I'm sneaking up on Varden Waymouth in this way for?"
"You said I'd see for myself when the time came. I'm in no hurry, grandfather."
The Duke patted Harlan's shoulder. "You're one of my kind, that's sure, boy. I haven't got to put any patent time-lock onto your tongue. And I can't say that of many chaps in this State. You're a safe man to have along. Come on!"