"But—but—Abraham, where is the bag of money?"
Sure enough, both stranger and money were gone.
"I thought he was claiming kin a little too soon," said Ruth. "These folks who claim kin so soon are just like the folks who come to your house and tell you one lie about your neighbor in order to get you to tell a hundred. Then they will have a sufficient stock to supply the whole neighborhood. Is the fellow in the closet safe?"
"I'll see."
"How about the one in the cistern?"
"Safe, too," said Abraham. "We will turn them over to the officers as early in the day as possible, and then set them on the trail of the stranger. Maybe he will have some of the money when caught. In the meantime, what shall we do to keep up our spirits until it is good and light?"
"I never in my life," said Ruth, "felt more like hearing a prayer by Deacon Brindlebee and a sermon by Parson Prudence."
"Why, look," said Abraham, "the rogue has left his saddle-bags. Let's see what is in them."
He opened one side and drew out a copy of an old newspaper. He unfolded it, and there was a sermon on Patience by the identical Parson Prudence.
"Ah," said Ruth, "the rogue has also left his hat. What's in it?"