"I can look right over into his barnyard," he reported to his companions below. "There's old Wiggett with his ox-cart, unloading something out of Peakslow's wagon; and there's Peakslow with him. Hark!" After a pause, Link laughed and said: "Peakslow's talking loud; I could hear him say, 'That air hoss,' and 'Not if I live!' Now old Wiggett's hawing his oxen around out of the yard."
"I must head him off and have a word with him," said Jack. And away he dashed through the undergrowth.
Reaching a clump of hazels by the roadside, he waited till the old man and his slow ox-team came along.
"What's the news, Mr. Wiggett?" Jack said, coming out and accosting him.
"Whoa! hush! back!" the old man commanded, beating his cattle across the face with a short ox-goad. He shook with laughter as he turned to Jack. "It's dog-gone-ation funny! He had a quirk in his head, arter all. Hankers arter that reward of twenty dollars!"
"What did you say to him?"
"Told him he had no shadder of a claim,—he might sue ye through all the courts in seven kingdoms, he couldn't find a jury to give him the reward for stolen prop'ty found in his hands. He said for that reason he meant to hold ontew the hoss till you'd agree to suthin."
"Where is the horse now?"
"In Peakslow's stable. He wants to turn him out to pastur', but he's afraid you're hangin' round. He has set his boys to diggin' taters over ag'in Betterson's lot, where they can watch for ye. What he re'ly wants is, for you to come back and make him an offer, to settle the hash; for he's a little skittish of your clappin' the law ontew him."
"I wonder he didn't think of that before."