“No, you needn’t do that,” said Dugan. “There’s a ferry half a mile above here. You’ll see the sign in front of a small wooden house. The man who lives there will take you across. He keeps a boat for that purpose.”
“What’s his name?” questioned Nick.
“Jones. He’s all right. There’s a bridge, too, below here a couple of miles.”
“A bridge, eh?” thought Nick. “Does the other fork of the road lead to it?”
“Aye, it does,” nodded Dugan.
“I remember passing it,” said Nick, rising to go.[Pg 24] “Well, I’ll be plugging along. It’ll be hot walking later in the day.”
“So ’twill, sir. Drop in again when you plug this way.”
“I will, Mr. Dugan,” Nick assured him.
He now detected a tinge of sarcasm in the man’s voice, nevertheless, but he departed without betraying it.
“I’ll be likely to drop in again sooner than you imagine, or will care to see me,” thought Nick, a bit grimly. “I reckon I have brought up quite close to my quarry. Those two rats ducked out of the barroom quite suddenly, I remember, and Dugan closed his trap in a rather abrupt and significant way. I’ll skin over the river and size up Mr. Ben Ardley. That may prove more profitable than hunting farther for Beardly.”