“Yes I am,” said the milkman in a careless way, “within a hundred feet—want a lift?”
“You bet,” said Dud. “I’m beginning to feel bad. I guess I’ll go to town, and see my doctor.”
“Jump in, then,” said the milkman hospitably, and setting down his bottles, he went toward the back of the waggon, and appeared to be moving something inside.
Dud looked over his shoulder, and called out, “Come on, Tike,” then he started toward the waggon.
Oscar and I both sensed the presence of strangers. The milkman was fooling the two young men. I watched the hair rising and falling on Oscar’s back, and wondered at his self-control, for he sat quietly near the widow, waiting for orders.
The waggon was a big one, drawn by two powerful horses. We saw Dud approach the front of it. He was going to take the seat with the milkman, and let Tike crawl in behind with me. The first one always took the best thing.
He climbed to the seat, was just about to sit down, when he stopped short, and gazed into the back of the waggon.
The milkman gave a great roar of laughter. “They’re only bottles—go in and look at them,” and he gave the slender Dud a push that sent him disappearing from view.
Tike had seen his companion’s start, and I knew from the tremor of his body that he was vaguely suspicious of something, he knew not what. He didn’t know what to do, and his eyes were glued to the milkman’s face as he came again toward the house and seized his bottles.
“Come on, Tike,” called Dud suddenly from the waggon.