The boy proceeded to do this while Frank listened attentively. When the narrator had finished Frank recognized one of the persons as the man who had received the signal from the fellow with the trick satchel. His companion did not tally with anyone Frank could recall just then.
“When I first went down to the train,” went on the farm boy, “I heard voices behind the hedge of the old farm house that burned down. Two men were talking. One had just flung that satchel to the ground.
“‘You’re a blunderer,’ he said to the other man. ‘You’ve missed on everything.’
“I went on to guide the people to the farm and thought no more of it, until I overhead your conversation here. Then I made up my mind it was the same satchel you were talking about. I went back to the hedge and found it, but the men were nowhere about.”
“I don’t know how to solve this problem,” remarked Professor Barrington with a groan; “but there has been tricky work somewhere. At all events, my precious papers are gone. We had better get to Boston and head off these men. Then we can get to work to see if we cannot mend matters in some way.”
“You have done us a favor,” said Frank to the farm boy, and he handed him a dollar bill. “You know the lay of the land around here. Can you figure out any way of our going on without waiting for that wreck to be cleared away?”
“Sure I can,” responded the lad, briskly. “If you’re willing to foot the bill I think Mr. Dorsett will let me hitch up the surrey and take you over to Woodhill.”
“How far is that?” inquired Frank.
“Eighteen miles. You see, a branch road runs from there and hits the main line further along.”
“That’s good,” said Frank. “Go ahead and make the arrangements. We’ll pay what’s fair for the service.”