"You'd better not. Wait here a minutes, while I look around for some
one of whom I can make inquiries. Here, sit dowp on that settee,
and, mind you, don't stir till I come back. Will you obey me?"
"Yes," answered the boy, submissively.
CHAPTER XXVII
THE RIDE TO BARTON'S
Willis Ford went to the station master, who stood at the door with a
cheap cigar in his mouth.
"Is there a man named Joel Barton living hereabouts?" he asked.
The station master took his cigar from his mouth and surveyed his
questioner with some curiosity.
"Does he owe you money?" he inquired.
"No," answered Ford, impatiently. "Will you answer my question?"
"You needn't be in such a pesky hurry," drawled the station master.
"Yes, he lives up the road a piece."
"How far is a piece?"
"Well, maybe a mile."
"Straighten?"
"Yes."
"Is there any way of riding?"
"Well, stranger, I've got a team myself. Is that boy with you?"
"Yes."
"I'll take you over for half a dollar."
"Can you go at once?"
"Yes."
"Then it's a bargain."
The station master, whose house was only three minutes' walk away,
appeared in a reasonable time with a farm wagon, drawn by an old
horse that had seen better days, it is to be hoped, for she was a
miserable-looking mare.
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