"That's Gaffer Hodge. He's the oldest man in these parts. He can remember the Crimean War and—oh, everything! He must be over a hundred years old. And he watches everyone who comes in. If a stranger is in the village he's never happy until he knows all about him. He was awfully worried to-day about you and Harry, I heard," explained Jack.
Dick laughed heartily.
"Well, I do hope he can tell us something about Graves. The sneak! I certainly hope Harry catches up to him. Do you think he can?"
"Well, he might, if he was lucky. He said the cycle he was riding was faster than the other one. But of course it would be very hard to tell just which way to go. If Graves knew there was a chance that he might be followed he ought to be able to give anyone who was even a mile behind the slip."
"Of course it's at night and that makes it harder for Harry."
"Yes, I suppose it does. In the daytime Harry could find people to tell him which way Graves was going, couldn't he?"
"Yes. That's just what I meant."
"Oh, I say, won't Gaffer Hodge be in bed and asleep?"
"I don't think so. He doesn't seem to like to go to bed. He sits up very late, and talks to the men when they start to go home from the Red Dog. He likes to talk, you see. We'll soon know—that's one thing. We'll be there now in no time."
Sure enough, the old man was still up when they arrived. He was just saying good-night, in a high, piping voice, to a little group of men who had evidently been having a nightcap in the inn next to his house. When he saw Jack he smiled. They were very good friends, and the old man had found the boy one of his best listeners. The Gaffer liked to live in the past; he was always delighted when anyone would let him tell his tales of the things he remembered.