“Then you’d better try to catch him instead of licking me.”
“Come into the house, Septimus,” said his father more calmly. “Look down the road and see if you can see him.”
Septimus shaded his eyes, and looked down the road, but no runaway boy was visible.
“I can’t see him, pa. He may be hiding somewhere.”
“Go and ask Mr. Sweetland if he will lend me his horse. I’ll go after him.”
“There’s Leslie Sweetland now. I’ll ask him.” Leslie Sweetland, a boy of sixteen, well and strongly built, was walking by.
“I say, Leslie,” called out Septimus, “do you think your father will lend us his horse?”
Leslie stopped short. He had very little friendship for Septimus, and disliked the elder Snowdon.
“What do you want him for?” he asked.
“Bernard Brooks has run away, and pa and I want to catch him.”