"Glad you're improving. Wife on the mending hand? And how are the little daisies? Which is the road to Halleluia Corners? I branch off here; good day, fair stranger."
These words were rattled off with great volubility, which seemed all the greater because of their surprising irrelevancy; while the head, thrown gayly to one side, balanced the quid in the bulged cheek.
Before Jack could answer, the youth with a wild laugh struck off from the road, and began to walk fast toward the woodland. Jack called after him,—
"Hold on! I want to speak with you!"
"Speak quick, then; I'm bound for the Kingdom,—will you go to glory with me?" the rogue shouted back over his shoulder, with a defiant grin, never slacking his pace.
Jack gave Snowfoot a touch of the whip, reined out of the track, and drove after him.
The fellow at the same time quickened his step to a run, and before he could be overtaken he had come to rough ground, where fast driving was dangerous.
Jack pulled up unwillingly, revolving rapidly in his mind what he should do. Though he had recovered his horse, he felt the strongest desire to have the thief taken and punished. Moreover, he had lately seen the truckman to whom the stolen animal was sold, and had promised to do what he could to help him obtain justice.
He might have levelled his gun and threatened to shoot the fugitive; but he would not have felt justified in carrying out such a threat, and recent experience had disgusted him with the shooting business.
He would have jumped from the wagon, and followed on foot; but, though a good runner, he was convinced that his heels were no match for the stranger's. There was then but one thing to do.