He stamped and shook the water from his soaked shoes and clothing. The mail bag he again suspended across his shoulders.
"Hi, another runaway!" suddenly exclaimed his companion.
Andy traced an increasing clatter of a horse's hoofs and wagon wheels to a rig descending the hill at breakneck speed.
"No," he said. "It's Ripley."
"Who's he?"
"The man who drove that wagon. Stop! stop!" cried Andy, springing into the middle of the bridge roadway and waving his arms.
The rig came up. It was driven by a man wearing a badge. Andy decided he was some local police officer. Ripley was fearfully excited and his face showed it.
"What did you do with that wagon?" sputtered Ripley, jumping to the plankway.
Andy pointed down at the river bed and then at the distant horse.
Briefly as he could he narrated what had occurred.
Ripley nearly had a fit. He instantly realized that whoever was to blame for the runaway, it was not Andy.