"I might walk, but the girls never could," answered Nat.
"Then suppose you go with us?" suggested the officer. "If the young ladies would not mind riding in a patrol."
"Oh, not at all," declared Tavia, but Dorothy looked askance at the wagon, in which so many criminals had ridden from their freedom.
"The best thing we can do," said Nat, realizing how much better any kind of ride would be than the uncertainty of waiting there as night came on.
"Jump in then," invited the officer. "We must be moving. I don't know what the captain will think of our prisoner coming up in an automobile, and the wagon bringing in this party."
Up the back step sprang Tavia, while Dorothy followed with less alacrity—it did not seem pleasant to get in the big ugly black wagon; a girl of Dorothy's nature feels the mere touch of things tainted by real crime.
"All right?" asked Nat, as he stepped in last.
"Yes," answered Dorothy, timidly, taking her place on the leather seat.
"Isn't it too jolly!" burst out Tavia. "I bet on the horse every time. Of course the auto is delightful, but when night cometh on,—Get a horse! Get a horse!"
"The horse is a good old stand-by," admitted Nat. "But isn't this great, though! Riding into Dalton in the hurry-up wagon!" and he joined Tavia in the laugh over their new adventure.