"And we are not home yet," added Nat, laughing.
The wagon rattled on, now and then clanging its gong to warn mere "people," not to interfere with the law—to keep out of its way.
"We are in some village," said Dorothy, looking out the little glass window at front, and seeing street lights along the way.
Presently a gang of urchins discovered the patrol wagon and as the horses slowed up around a corner the youngsters tried to get on the steps to catch a glimpse of the "prisoners."
"Look at that!" exclaimed Tavia, laughing. "Wonder what they think we were taken up for?"
"Oh, I feel so queer about it," said Dorothy, plainly discomfited. "I wish we could get out."
At that moment the wagon sprang forward, the horses having been urged on, and before Nat had a chance to reply to Dorothy's wish they were rattling on, at greater speed than had been attained during the entire trip.
To reach Danvers jail the route was through Dalton, and now Tavia could see Dalton houses, Dalton churches, and there was the postoffice block! Surely the officer would not let them out right in the center!
"Here you are!" called the man at front, while the wagon stopped and Nat saw they were in front of the bank, the most conspicuous spot in all Dalton.
There was nothing for them to do but to alight of course, and, by the time the officers had vacated the back step, and Nat put his foot on it, a crowd of people surrounded the wagon—waiting to see the "prisoners" get out.