Possibly, if the boys could have looked into the future, Jack would not have spoken so confidently. Troubles they never dreamed of lay ahead of them, and, at that, in the near future.
[CHAPTER IV.]
NED TO THE RESCUE.
In the meantime, Ned Nevins had retraced his steps to Nestorville. It was a pleasant little village, with neat, white houses lining its elm-bordered streets, each with its trim lawn and flower beds. To the boy who had been wandering in the dusty roads so long, it appeared wonderfully homelike and pleasant, although his travel-stained garments looked doubly distasteful to him in the midst of so much neatness and unobtrusive prosperity.
He passed the main hotel of the place and continued down High Street till he came to a rather less pretentious-looking place, bearing over its door the name, “The Hinkley House.” It was not until then that Ned suddenly recollected that Hinkley was the name by which Jack had referred to the disagreeable youth up at the workshop.
“Wonder if he’s any relation?” thought Ned to himself as he ascended the steps and entered the office.
A man with bristly red hair, and a not over-pleasant expression of countenance, stood behind the desk writing in a big book.
“Well, boy?” he asked sharply, as Ned entered the place. “If you’re selling anything we don’t want nothing.”
And then he resumed his writing without taking any more notice of Ned, who eyed him rather amusedly for a few seconds. Then he addressed him in a pleasant tone.