"Well, where to next?" questioned the farmer, as he and Dick came
to a halt.
The youth shook his head. "It's so dry here the footprints are
lost," he returned slowly.
"That's true, Dick. But I reckon he went to Oak Run."
"Why?"
"Because he could catch a train from there which would take him
miles away -- and I guess that is what he wants to do just about
now."
"There is something in that."
"Besides, you know, the other end of the road ends up in the
woods. He wouldn't go there."
"I had best start for Oak Run, then."
"I'll go along."
The distance was a mile and a half, and they thought they would
have to walk it, but hardly had a dozen rods been covered than
they heard the sound of wagon wheels, and a grocery turn-out and
came into sight driven by a boy Joel Darrel knew well.
"This comes in just right," observed Darrel to Dick. "Hi there,
Harry Oswald. Give us a lift to Oak Run, will you?"
"Certainly, Mr. Darrel," answered the grocery boy, and brought his
store wagon to a stop. The farmer leaped to the seat, and Dick
followed.
On the way Harry Oswald was made acquainted with the situation,
and he drove along with all possible speed.
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