“I'll take you to the Greggs' farm for ten cents,” put in the stage driver.
Again a bargain was struck, and a drive of ten minutes brought them to the farm, located on the outskirts of Millville. They found the farm owner at work by his wood pile, sawing wood. He was a pleasant appearing individual.
“Come into the house,” he said putting down his saw. “I'm glad to see you,” and when our hero had entered the little farmhouse he was introduced to Mrs. Greggs and two grown-up sons, all of whom made him feel thoroughly at home.
“To tell the truth,” said Mr. Greggs, “I did not know William Bodley very well. I came here looking for a farm and heard this was for sale, and struck a bargain with him.”
“Was he alone at that time?” questioned Joe.
“He was, and his trouble seemed to have made him a bit queer—not but what he knew what he was doing.”
“Did you learn anything about his family?”
“He had lost his wife and two children by disease. What had happened to the other child was something of a mystery. I rather supposed it had died while away from home, but I was not sure.”
“Have you any idea at all what became of William Bodley?”
“Not exactly. Once I met a man in Pittsburg who had met a man of that name in Idaho, among the mines. Both of us wondered if that William A. Bodley was the same that I had bought my farm from.”