“Well, it’s a light wagon with a white horse we were directed to.”
“There it is—see that white horse yonder?”
“I guess you’re right. Toddle along. This is no light lump of a youngster.”
The men reached a light wagon. Its box was littered with straw and a lot of empty bags. It looked to Dave as if its owner had brought a load of potatoes to the aero meet.
“Give him a hoist,” ordered one of the men.
Dave was lifted, swung, and dropped. He sank down among the bags and the straw almost out of sight.
“Now where’s the man we were to meet, the driver of the wagon?” inquired the fellow who had bound and gagged Dave.
“Oh, he’ll probably be here soon. You stay and wait for him and give him his orders. I’ll go back and finish up the job.”
“You can’t do it alone. It won’t take but a few minutes. You may want me to hold a light, or something.”
“Got the tools?”