"Let's go right down an' get one," Jack cried excitedly as he tried to quicken Tom's movements by pulling at his arm.
Master Pratt was not a boy who could be hurried; he objected to moving quickly upon any occasion, however important, and said irritably,—
"Don't yank a feller 'round so; if I go back now I'm afraid father'll be there an' set me to work."
"I'll help you if he does."
"A feller like you wouldn't 'mount to much haulin' rock-weed," Tom said scornfully.
"But I'll help as much as I can. Do go, Tom; only think what it means to Louis! His mother will soon find him if I can take one of the papers back to Aunt Nancy."
"How do you make that out?"
"She'd see where to write to Mrs. Littlefield, an' that would settle the whole thing."
"Well, I'll go," Master Pratt said with an air such as he fancied a martyr should wear; "but it's goin' to be mighty hard if I'm set to work after gettin' so far away from home."
Jack hurried him along as fast as possible, which at the best was a slow pace, and, on arriving at the Pratt farm, Tom reconnoitred several minutes, determined not to enter the house if his father was on the premises.