"Well, be careful, that's all," concluded Mr. Hamilton. "The fellows who stole Grit are no common thieves, I imagine, and I hope you don't get into trouble with them."
"I'm not worrying about trouble. Once I get where Grit is, he and I can take care of the thieves all right," and Dick laughed grimly.
He started off at an easy canter, though Rex was full of mettle and wanted to gallop.
"No, Rex," said Dick, for he had a habit of talking to his horse as he did to Grit. "We'll take it easy. We've got a long day ahead of us."
It was about ten o'clock, and Dick decided to ride several miles without stopping to make inquiries, as the day previous he had pretty well covered the neighborhood near his home. But in about an hour, having reached a small village, he asked several persons he met if they had seen anything of his dog. No one had, and he pushed on.
Mile after mile he rode, stopping every little while to make inquiries, but without avail. He got dinner at a wayside hotel and then resumed his trip. It was about three o'clock when, as he stopped at a watering trough under a big chestnut tree on the edge of the road, he saw a wagon coming toward him.
"I'll ask this man," thought Dick. He waited until the vehicle and the driver were in plainer view through the cloud of dust raised and then he exclaimed:
"Why, Henry! How'd you get out here?"
"Oh, I've been after some old iron," replied the secretary and general man-of-all-work of the International and Consolidated Old Metal Corporation. "I heard of a farmer who had a lot of scrap for sale and I went after it."
"Did you get it?"