“Then it's a bargain.”
The station master, whose house was only three minutes' walk away, appeared in a reasonable time with a farm wagon, drawn by an old horse that had seen better days, it is to be hoped, for she was a miserable-looking mare.
“Jump in, Herbert,” said Ford.
The boy obeyed, and sat on the front seat, between the driver and his abductor.
“I suppose the horse is warranted not to run away?” said Ford, regarding the animal with a smile.
“He ran away with me once,” was the unexpected answer.
“When was that?”
“'Bout fifteen years ago,” replied the driver, with grim humor. “I reckon he's steadied down by this time.”
“It looks like it,” said Ford.
“Know Joel Barton?” asked the station master, after a pause.