“Pretty good price for the stuff you got, wasn’t it, father?” asked the boy.
“Yes, these shows pay us well,” was the response.
“Oh, I’m nobody and nothing, it seems,” thought Dave. “Wish I had the use of my tongue for about two minutes. I’d ask these people what they intend to do with me. They don’t appear like very bloodthirsty fellows. Maybe, though, they’re hired to dump me into the first river they come to, and don’t mind it so long as they get the money.”
Not a word was spoken by either father or son that showed the least interest on their part in their helpless passenger. Finally the boy said:
“It’s going to rain, father. I felt a sprinkle just then.”
“Well, we’ll be home in ten minutes.”
Dave had noticed that the sky had clouded up. A few drops of rain spattered his face. Then the horse took a turn, entered a farm yard, and was halted.
“You go into the house, father,” said the boy. “I’ll put up the horse.”
“All right, give him his feed, and say, Jared, you needn’t bother pulling the wagon in.”
“Just as you say, father.”