Jack jumped out, ran forward, and gave a shout. The wagon was a buggy, and the horse was Snowfoot, standing before the gate, waiting patiently to be let in.
Quite wild with delight and astonishment, Jack took the lantern and examined horse and vehicle.
"Old Lion! you were right," he exclaimed. "The scamp must have let the horse go, and taken to his heels. And the horse made for home."
"The most he cared for was to get off with the money," said Rufe, not quite so abundantly pleased as his friend. "What's this thing under the seat?"
"The compass!" said Jack, if possible, still more surprised and overjoyed, "which I accused Zeph of stealing!"
Rufe continued rummaging, and, holding the lantern with one hand, lifted up a limp garment with the other.
"What in thunder? A pair of breeches! Rad's breeches! Where can the scamp have gone without his breeches? See what's in the pocket there, Jack."
Jack thrust in his hand, and brought out some loose bank-notes. He thrust in his hand again, and brought out a pocket-book, containing more bank-notes. It was Mr. Betterson's pocket-book, and the notes were the stolen money.
Jack was hastily turning them over—not counting them, he was too much amazed and excited to do that—when the candle in the lantern gave a final flicker and went out, leaving the boys and the mystery of the compass and the money and Rad's pantaloons enveloped in sudden darkness.