“Sho! And he can't go by train?”
“What? With Beriah postmaster at East Harniss and always nosin' through every train that stops there? You can't fetch Trumet by train without stoppin' at East Harniss and—What was that?”
“I don't know. What was it?”
“Sounded like somethin' outside that back winder.”
The two ran to the window and looked out. All they saw was an overturned sawhorse and two or three hens scratching vigorously.
“Guess 'twas the chickens, most likely,” observed the blacksmith. Then, striking his blackened palms together, he exclaimed:
“By time! I've thought of somethin'! Is McKay is in town to-day. Come over in the Lady May. She's a gasoline boat. Is would take Sam to Trumet for two or three dollars, I'll bet. And he's such a fool head that he wouldn't ask questions nor suspicion nothin'. 'Twould be faster'n a horse and enough sight less risky.”
And just then the “fool head,” his brain whirling under its carroty thatch, was hurrying blindly up the main street, bound somewhere, he wasn't certain where.
A mushy apple exploded between his shoulders, but he did not even turn around. So THIS was what the blacksmith meant! This was why Mr. Higgins watched his daughter so closely. This was why Gertie had been sent off to Trumet. She had met the Bartlett miscreant in Boston; they had been together there; had fallen in love and—He gritted his teeth and shook his fists almost in the face of old Deacon Pratt, who, knowing the McKay penchant for slaughter, had serious thoughts of sending for the constable.
Beriah Higgins must be warned, of course, but how? To telegraph was to put Pat Starkey in possession of the secret, and Pat was too good a friend of Gertie's to be trusted. There was no telephone at the store. Issy entered the combination grocery store and post office.