“For, to tell the truth,” said Bob to himself, “I don’t altogether like your looks, nor the looks of that box you carry. You may be all right, but I’ve got important papers and I’ve got to look after them.” He made good time to his uncle’s office, and found Mr. Dexter rather anxiously waiting for him.
“Oh, you have them, I see!” exclaimed Mr. Dexter as he took the bundle of papers from his nephew. “Mr. Sheldon was there all right, I take it?”
“Yes, and he said he’d attend to the other matters. But these must be signed before two witnesses by three o’clock.”
“I know it, Bob. I’ll attend to it right away. You had no other trouble, did you—I mean no one stopped you to ask to look at the papers—or anything like that?” Mr. Dexter seemed anxious and nervous.
“No, I wasn’t exactly stopped,” Bob answered. “But there was an old man with a box who wanted me to take him to Storm Mountain.”
“What sort of a man, Bob?” eagerly asked his uncle.
Bob described the individual, and a look of relief came over Mr. Dexter’s face.
“It isn’t any one I know,” he said. “I guess it’s all right, Bob. You may go now. Thanks for attending to this for me. I can look after matters now.”
“Then I’ll go to the ball game,” announced Bob.
He was on his way to the park, taking a short cut along a back road when, in a lonely spot he saw a huddled figure lying beside the road.