"That's the queer part of it. Brisco left the Brockville hotel during the night——"
"An' I picked it up by de door, next mornin'," chimed in the boy. "Brisco must have dropped it when he made dat getaway. It was blacker dan a stack o' black cats, dat night, an' he wasn't able t' use his lamps."
"When Marks, and Harris, and St. Clair, and the rest of the company left Brockville," continued Eliza, "they told us to keep the box and not give it up until Brisco paid over what he owed. We lost our wages and everything else we had except the clothes on our backs."
"Dot's me," spoke up Carl; "I vas fixed der same vat you are. Den, pympy, Modor Matt come along mit himseluf, shpoke some jeerful vorts mit me, dook me for a bard, und luck made a shange. Meppy dot iss how it vill be mit you."
"Seems lak he was a long time findin' dat dere box," said Uncle Tom. "Ah's honin' fo' dat hotel in Fairview, an' fo' dat dinnah, an' fo' to dry dese clothes. Mistah Legree is a monstus long time, an' no mistake."
"Stay here, all of you," said Matt, getting out of the car. "I'll go back and see if I can help find the box. If it's so important, it won't do to leave it behind."
"I'll go 'long wit' yous," chirped the boy.
Before he could get out of the car, the sharp, incisive note of a revolver echoed from the bushes at the trail-side, close to the place where Legree had vanished into them.
Eliza stifled a scream.
"Mah goodness!" fluttered Topsy. "Somebody's done gone tuh shootin'!"